The Art of War
by KatrioneSnape
Summary: IN PROGRESS The night of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, Snape returns from the newly-risen Voldemort to find Hermione Granger in his rooms. Together, they make plans to fight Voldemort and save the wizarding world. Eventual HG/SS, as little AU as possible, but more so as you get to the end, some OCs. Definitely EWE and HEA.
1. 1: Sitting In the Dark

**Hello again! I keep telling myself I'm going to work on actual work, but this story kept rattling the bars of it's cage in my head, so I'm letting it escape slowly whenever I have the time to write. It might be on the long side and I have the first dozen or so chapters written already. I'll try to stay to an at-least-once-a-week posting schedule, but if I get too wrapped up in it things might progress faster.**

 **For those coming from _The List_ , expect less fluff right away, but you know me...it'll happen eventually. I hope you enjoy this one! As always, please review and let me know what you think! Severus willing I'm usually open to ideas/feedback.**

 **And with that, here we go again...**

* * *

Severus silently trudged back through the same secret passageway he had walked hundreds of times before, forcing his mind through the even more familiar process of sorting the memories of the night behind his occlumency shields. I don't know whether I should be more disturbed at the fact that I am doing this again or at how easy it is to step back into it. It's like the last twelve years never happened. Throughout the year, as he noticed his dark mark slowly returning, he had prepared himself for the moment when it finally burned. However, earlier that night when he felt the agonizing burn consume his left forearm, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of heaviness that no preparation could have prevented.

After an already long evening of of the third task of the Triwizard tournament, Potter's dramatic return, and the revelation of Crouch's real identity, the simple act of removing the black cloak and mask from his trunk and donning his old Death Eater persona was almost as terrifying as the idea of apparating to his former master's side almost two hours late.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord had taken out most of his rage on the Death Eaters present immediately after Potter's escape. He had only been in full possession of his body and his magic for a few hours, and fate seemed to be in Severus's favor that his cursing stamina had not been what it once was. Not wanting to show any form of weaknesses, he had covered his inability to throw stronger curses with what Severus deemed to be quite a poor portrayal of calculated mercy. However, even the unexpected reprieve from the physical agony of the Dark Lord's worse moods could not make up for the hollow feeling of being once again trapped between two masters with no way out.

All Severus wanted was a long shower, silence in which he could finish cementing his occlumency shields, and possibly a half dose of dreamless sleep. He cursed the gods when he approached his rooms and noticed that his wards had been tampered with. Clearly there truly is no rest for the wicked, he thought, automatically beginning to assess the skill level or detect the magical signature of the culprit. It can't be. It truly must be my lucky night. He continued to grumble internally as he opened the door and faced the figure sitting almost regally in one of the arm chairs in his sitting room. The lights were all dark, but he could see half of the all-too-familiar face in the light of the dying fire.

"Granger, you have thirty seconds to explain your presence before we discover if Gryffindor's hourglass can display a negative points value."

He expected her to shrink in fear, reevaluate and flee his rooms, anything but the small, jaded-looking, half smile that graced her features as she stood up and placed the notebook in which she had been writing down on the table. Bloody make yourself at home, why don't you? Instead of speaking right away, she surveyed his person with the same analytical intent he usually saw directed at one of her potions in class gave a small nod, and breathed what looked like a small sigh of relief. When she finally spoke, it was with a tone strangely calm and eerily mature, even coming from her.

"I'm glad to see he didn't hurt you too badly, Professor. I was worried."

He didn't know what to make of this remark or of the fact that it took no strides towards answering his original question. "I don't know who you think you are, Miss Granger, but it is neither my Master, my mother, or my healer, so I would advise you to answer my question directly. I have had a long night and have neither time nor patience to spare."

For a half second he was almost certain she had given him a look that at best resembled a forbearing eye roll, but whatever look it had been was gone as quickly as it had come and was replaced with a look of sheer dedication he knew only too well. That is the look of a Gryffindor on a mission. Here comes the squaring of the shoulders, yes right on cue, now the deep breath, there it is, now let's hear what the chit has to say for herself.

"This isn't going to work."

Well that certainly wasn't what I was expecting. He arched one eyebrow up, subtly urging her to continue.

"I came to speak with you as soon as Harry told me the full story of what happened, but you weren't here. I sat down to wait and after a half hour I realized where your absence suggested you were. I began running Arithmancy equations to pass the time and it just isn't going to work."

His eyebrow remained arched, but it now assumed a more mocking tone as he spoke.

"Miss Granger, if you are looking for someone who can understand what you are talking about without an adequate explanation, Sybil Trelawney's tower is three staircases over and to the left. Your thirty seconds are up. Get out of my sitting room."

I know I saw an eye roll that time. If my powers of intimidation are failing I must be more tired than I thought. He put on his fiercest glare, the one that could reduce a first year to tears in a matter of seconds. She gulped and her back became almost imperceptibly straighter. Ah, that's better.

"Voldemort," she blurted out, not noticing the subtle clenching of his left fist when she spoke the name. "There's no way we can defeat him."

He took a second to survey the girl standing in front of him. Fists tight, shoulders back, chin up in an unspoken defiance, yet she spoke calmly and with words that had clearly been thought out beforehand. A true hatstall she had been, the courage of a Gryffindor battling the intellectual curiosity of a Ravenclaw. After being the brains of the Golden Trio's mischief over the years he had to admit that the Slytherin portion of the hat's donated grey matter might have had a stake in the game as well, but probably bowed out due to her blood status. She had to have a pretty good reason for being in his rooms at, gods, three fourty seven in the bloody morning. All right, she has my interest. Sod it all, let's hear her out.

"Explain, Miss Granger," he said with an eye roll of his own and a reluctant half nod towards the chair she had been occupying when he arrived.

One almost successfully stifled sigh of relief later she was seated in a chair facing his own, notebook open on her lap.

"Voldemort seems to be fairly certain that killing Harry is his ticket to ruling the wizarding world, which means that at some point in time Harry has to fight him. At first I tried to figure why it had to be Harry, after all it doesn't stand to logic that the fate of wizardkind should rest on the shoulders of a fourteen year old boy, but the Arithmancy equations really just didn't tolerate any other way around it, on top of which I assume if it didn't have to be Harry why didn't Dumbledore just off him years ago..."

"Ten points for rambling, Miss Granger." Rambling, yes, but it's impressive how she arrived at the correct conclusion even without knowing about that thrice damned prophecy. I'll have to compliment Vector on her curriculum if fourth years have managed that level of sophistication. However, it is Granger we're talking about, so maybe not.

"See your way to your point please. Some of us do wish to sleep tonight. "

"Sorry, Professor." She took another barely-concealed, calming breath and began again more slowly.

"I ran the equations and there is no way I could see for Harry to come out alive, not to mention victorious, in another confrontation with Voldemort." She did notice the tensing of his left arm this time, looking guiltily down for a beat before she continued on.

"He was lucky to survive this time, but I fear he wouldn't be that lucky a second time. Not unless we change something. Change something big."

He paused before responding, surveying the look of determination on her face and the fact that she didn't flinch away from his eye contact the way she used to.

"And this 'we' you speak of is you and me. At quarter to five in the morning. The day of the Dark Lord's return?" His eyebrow raised perilously close to his hairline.

"Well yes. No. Sort of." Another deep breath, this time without an attempt to hide it. "You were the only one I trusted." She looked like she was now having to fight to maintain eye contact, but she won the battle and kept her head up.

"And why is that, Miss Granger?" Surely I am the last person any of your Gryffindor...colleagues," he let the word roll off his tongue as if to maximize the amount of disdain he could put into only two syllables, "would come to for help. Why do you even trust me?"

Without missing a beat, she held her chin up and replied confidently.

"Headmaster Dumbledore trusts you, sir."

"That is a child's answer, Miss Granger. I have neither time nor patience for children at this time of night. However, if you manage to make it back to Gryffindor tower immediately and without being seen, I will not deduct any more points from your house." He rose from his chair and made to walk into his private rooms when he realized, that he had yet to hear the sounds indicating she had stood up from her chair or, for that matter, any shifting sounds to indicate she had any intention of moving.

"Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor?" Said calmly and rationally, as if she was not in a situation that would have most other students running for their lives (or at least for their academic careers).

"Tomorrow in class I will find reason to give you detention. Be here tomorrow night at six o'clock with a better answer to my question. If I am satisfied by your answer we may discuss the matter further."

"Thank you, Professor. Have a good night, what's left of it." And with that he heard her rustle up her notebook and quietly shut the door behind her.

And to think the Dark Lord returning would be the strangest part of the evening. With a nonverbal charm he simultaneously folded his Death Eater cloak and banished it, alongside the mask, back to its hidden compartment in his wardrobe. Another minute and he was taking full advantage of the hottest water Hogwarts' magical showers could produce. Not soon after, he was clean, dry, and tucked into his silky, Slytherin-green sheets. However, sleep did not come. The first lights of morning would find him still awake and replaying the events of the evening, culminating in Granger's warning. Not unless we change something. Change something big.


	2. 2: The Detention

For a brief time, upon entering potions class the next morning, Hermione wondered if she should intentionally make a mistake so that Professor Snape could have an excuse to put her in detention that evening. Then, when he took fifteen points for setting up her equipment too quickly and gave her detention for looking surprised at the loss, she remembered that she was dealing with Professor Snape, who had never let a trivial thing like not having a good reason stop him from punishing a Gryffindor. It was not until he had stalked back to his desk did she detect a hint of amusement in his smirk.

At five fifty nine that evening she straightened out her uniform, squared her shoulders, and prepared herself to knock on the door to Professor Snape's chambers. The night before she had been running on sleep deprivation and pure adrenaline, both tended to fortify her Gryffindor bravery. However, by the light of the day after, she was decidedly more nervous about approaching her foreboding professor. It wasn't that she had any doubts about his trustworthiness, no, she had her reasons for trusting him polished and ready for analysis. It was more a question of his prickly nature and predisposition towards removing points from Gryffindor because the sun was in the sky. She grimaced at the thought. _I can do this._ Something about pushing a boulder up a hill came to mind.

Sisyphean tasks aside, she raised her hand to knock on the door, only to have the door open before her knuckles made contact, revealing her scowling, yet decidedly amused, potions professor.

"You are fortunate that telepathic knocking will not be on your OWLs next year. You may find more success using your hand as a first resort next time."

A year ago his tone would have had her running for the door, but she had been observing her sarcastic professor very carefully (and very subtly) over the last year and she had slowly realized that, if you ignored the venom with which the words were spoken, his quick and dry wit was actually immensely amusing. She would rather be force fed potions ingredients before she admitted it, but she greatly enjoyed some of his verbal eviscerations of her classmates, as long as he didn't carry it too far.

She entered the room and waited awkwardly for instructions, not wanting to seem too presumptuous. This was a detention after all. Hearing her unspoken question, Professor Snape closed the door behind her and broke the silence.

"If I am satisfied by your answer, conversation and possibly even tea await you. If not, I have a bucket of newt carcasses whose eyeballs need removal. Answer with caution, Miss Granger."

This was the part for which she had a day to prepare, so the nerves were hardly visible as she spoke, evenly and precisely enunciating every word.

"I trust you for five different yet related reasons. First, I stand by my statement last night. Dumbledore possesses far more information about the situation at hand than I do, so his opinion is relevant to matter, even if it cannot stand alone as grounds to trust you."

Without giving him time to kick her out for contradicting him she barreled on, "Second, you are far more intelligent than to support a violent and radical movement with the full witness of history to the fact that powerful leaders who base their regimes on brutality and the fear of others are always defeated in the end. You are intelligent enough not to cast your lot on the wrong side of history."

She saw that the eyebrow had begun its ascent, but continued, "Third, Harry said you were genuinely surprised at Crouch's reveal and it wouldn't make sense for the Dark Lord to have two of his followers in such close proximity to each other without some kind of knowledge so you didn't interfere with each other's missions."

"Fourth, you did all you could to stop Quirrel from getting the stone for the Dark Lord and you helped revive those petrified by the Baselisk, both of which were directly against His best interest."

He looked at her to see if she would continue, but she acted as if she was done talking.

"You said you had five reasons. I only counted four."

Color rose to her cheeks as she let out (and quickly stifled) an embarrassed giggle.

"I once set you on fire thinking you weren't trustworthy. I don't like making the same mistake twice."

With this Hermione saw an expression she could not identify come over her professor's face. She began to worry until one corner of his mouth twitched once, twice, and then he barked out a single, deep, velvety guffaw of laughter. Rising, he shook his head in defeat.

"You win, Miss Granger. How do you take your tea?"

* * *

As Hermione got settled in the same chair she had occupied the previous night, she took a second to look around. She had been here for hours the previous day, but between the dramatic events of that evening, the worries over what Professor Snape could be enduring at the moment, and her desire to touch as few things as possible to minimize the point loss to Gryffindor due to sneaking into a professor's rooms uninvited, she hadn't really taken the time to analyze her surroundings.

Professor Snape's sitting room was actually alarming close to what she would have done with the space we're she to occupy it. Every wall that could support a bookshelf was currently doing so, making it quite difficult to actually see the walls at all but for the masses of books. She currently occupied one of two overstuffed armchairs that were situated where they could both see the fire, each other, and the door. In the back corner was a monumental black wooden desk so abundant in dignity that it made her briefly question just how many pieces had been made from the _HMS Resolute_. Finally, along the back wall there were two doors. One, she assumed, led to his private rooms, the other to a small kitchen. It was from the second that Professor Snape now emerged, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

He must have seen the question floating in her mind, for seeing her face his eyes seemed to chuckle and he remarked explanatorily, "the house elves and I have an understanding of sorts."

She saw from his expression that the matter was obviously not one about which it would be wise to ask further questions, so she simply nodded and accepted her tea, silently sipping from the warm mug as he sat down in the chair opposite.

"So a fourth year and her Arithmancy notebook have figured out that of which I have been trying to convince Albus for years. Do you care to elaborate on your conclusions?"

Hermione shifted slightly in the urge not to reach for her notes, but managed to school her voice as she spoke.

"I started plotting the events that have already happened to try to get a baseline of the behavior of all the main people who are key players in the conflicts. Obviously Harry, Dumbledore, the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord," her eyes flicked up to see if he noticed that she hadn't said the name this time. No expression other than polite attention crossed his face, but his left hand remained unclenched at his side.

"Somehow you, Ron, and I always manage to get drawn into the mix, so I gave us individual equations as well." She paused and looked up, clearly expecting a response.

"As much as I protest being placed on any list next to Mister Weasley and yourself, I cannot deny your conclusions. Let me guess, the more information you added to your equations, the more behaviors you added for each party involved, the more dire the picture became? And when you factored in last night's return of the Dark Lord the result became Potter's certain demise at the hands of the Dark Lord?"

Hermione nodded meekly, yet he could see the questions brewing behind her eyes.

"Ask, Miss Granger. I fear if you don't you might relapse into that infernal hand waving behavior, just when I thought you had the habit under control."

Chagrined at the image of a first-year Hermione waving her hand so high in the air it almost pulled her off her seat, Hermione again schooled the tension out of her body and collected herself before speaking. She could tell that Professor Snape was not fooled, of course the head of Slytherin wouldn't be, but he looked sufficiently pleased with the effort, so she counted that as a win for the time being.

"If I came to that conclusion," she paused briefly, "and you came to that conclusion," a bit longer this time, "surely the Headmaster must have realized this ages ago", another pause, seemingly hoping he would interrupt her with an answer before she had to finish her question. When no such help came, she finished with a hint of outrage, "why hasn't he _done_ something about it? Why isn't he preparing Harry? Why isn't he…" she trailed off and finished with an accusatory look so strong he was momentarily grateful the accusation was not directed at him.

"The headmaster believes that Potter will find out what he needs in his own time. He wishes to let him keep his _innocence_ ," he sneered the word as if it was a foul-smelling substance scraped from the bottom of a dirty cauldron, "intact as long as possible."

"But clearly that is the most idiotic idea possible! Harry needs to be trained, prepared, he needs to be taught _something_! What use is innocence if you only live a few more years to enjoy it?" She finished with a huff of breath to accompany her flushed face. Instead of responding right away, Professor Snape eyed her with the same look he would direct at a potion that may be ready but might need another dozen stirs anticlockwise. When he spoke it was slow and measured.

"Is that really such an easy sacrifice to make? Could you simply abandon your childhood to fight in a war that you knew going in you only had a small chance, if that, of winning?"

Her gut instinct was to immediately and vehemently answer in the affirmative, but replaying Professor Snape's comments about child's answers and infernal hand waving she took a second to really think about the question he had asked.

 _It's not a rhetorical question at all. It's an offer! A Slytherinish offer, but an offer nonetheless._ It still didn't take her much time to come by a decision, but she tried match his even tone as she answered.

"Yes, Professor. I think I could. I was taught to fight for what I believe is right. I wouldn't be a proper Gryffindor if I let fear or selfishness stand in the way of that. Plus, I'm the muggleborn best friend of the Boy Who Lived, so I hardly think that if the Dark Lord won he would let me live happily on." She paused and tilted her head as if in thought, then seemed to resolve whatever it was she was thinking and finished resolutely, "Yes, Professor. I would sacrifice whatever is necessary to defeat him."

He didn't have to ask if she was sure.

"So be it, Miss Granger." He nodded once and stood up. "I'll expect you back at the same time tomorrow night. If you think you will have trouble getting here without being seen I would be more than happy to assign you another detention. We have a lot of work to do before summer holiday begins and not too much time in which to do it."

He held open the door for a more than slightly confused Hermione.

"What just happened, Professor?"

"You just decided to become an adult, Miss Granger. Welcome to fight. I shall see you tomorrow."

With more questions than answers, she headed back up to the privacy of the drawn curtains of her four poster bed. She felt another round of Arithmancy equations coming on.


	3. 3: Assets and Liabilities

After spending a large portion of the night crouched on her bed alternating between rechecking her Arithmancy equations with different sets of variables and scribbling down various notes to discuss with Professor Snape during her next 'detention', Hermione had exactly one crick in her neck, one good idea, and five or six dozen more questions scrawled in her journal. As soon as she woke up she scurried off to see if her one good idea would come to fruition. Other than that, she spent the day counting down the hours until six o'clock.

For Professor Snape, however, the time could not go by slowly enough. He and Albus had long discussed giving the so-called Golden Trio training to help them gain an advantage in the war ahead. To be more accurate, he often lectured Albus about how they were up a certain creek without a rowing implement and Albus always responded with annoyingly vague platitudes about how they couldn't protecting innocence, not stealing childhoods, and other such nonsense that has no business in a conversation between the de facto general of an army and his most prominent spy. After fifty or sixty repetitions of the same conversation, they had come to a compromise, if for no better reason than to spare both of their sanities from further repetitions of the same arguments. Their eventual agreement was that, should any of the three students come to them and ask for training it could be given, but that 'neither one of them' (which they both knew meant 'Severus') would interfere unless specifically asked.

It was at this point that Severus began developing his curriculum. He knew that, should any of the three try to seek training or preparation it would be the Granger girl. Yes, he'd thought she would go to Minerva for help and hadn't anticipated it happening for maybe another year, but even so he knew he had the most experience with the Dark Lord and the dark arts, and short of Albus himself he had the best knowledge of warfare in general. If someone as integral to Potter (and hence the final outcome of the war) was going to receive training, he would damn sure make sure it was done properly.

Much to Severus' delight, the brains of the Golden Trio waiting in the dark of his sitting room in the middle of the night definitely qualified as 'seeking him out'. Last night's conversation had presented him with the grounds to defend to Albus enacting the plan he had proposed all along, well, he hadn't told Albus the full extent of his proposed curriculum, but he intended to keep it that way until it was far too late for the old goat to forbid it.

What he hadn't foreseen, however, was the hesitation he would feel before actually going through with it. She would sit again in his sitting room tonight with her trusting eyes and poorly schooled features. Could he really turn a schoolgirl into the spy, the warrior, the weapon that would be needed to actually have a chance at keeping Potter alive, not to mention defeating the Dark Lord? He knew for a fact he had the ability, but did he really have the objectivity?

When it came down to it he knew he would. _What's one more stain on my soul anyway?_ He had never hesitated to perform whatever actions were necessary under the premise of Albus' 'for the greater good' theory, and that had included far less savory deeds than teaching a schoolgirl the skills she would need to survive. If he was ever visited by any of those pesky, lingering morals he used to have he would just tell them he was stepping in as her mentor. _Note to self, teach the girl occlumency. The last thing I need is her going up against the Dark Lord and her unprotected mind blabbing about how I'm training her up to defeat him. Oh baby Merlin in a handbasket, this really is going to be the death of me._

* * *

At five fifty eight Hermione stood again outside Professor Snape's quarters. This time she was buzzing with excitement instead of nerves. She wanted to knock right away, launch herself into the room, and blurt out the good news (or at least she thought it was good news) as soon as possible. However, she had realized she was dealing with the most understated man on the planet, and a Slytherin at that, so she got her facial expressions under control, waited until her tempus charm indicated that it was six o'clock, and knocked as nonchalantly as she knew how.

Severus had been able to detect the faint smell of whatever scented body cleansing or hair taming or something potion that made Granger smell of lilac and honeysuckle for, according to his count, two full minutes before she finally knocked on the door. However, as he let her in, she did a fairly good job of sauntering into the room, almost successfully hiding the fact that she probably wanted to sprint in. _Points for effort, but you'll have to get much better than that to fool me. But while you're at it, let's see how long you can go without blurting out whatever is on your mind._

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said cordially, gesturing her to her now-customary seat where a cup of tea was already awaiting her. She sat down and waited for him to begin the conversation, determined to let him speak first. After an uncomfortably long silence, which was made no better by the amount of sheer enjoyment he seemed to be deriving from watching her squirm, he finally chuckled almost inaudibly to himself and finally spoke.

"Well done, Miss Granger. You have demonstrated at least a desire to overcome your Gryffindor brashness. Points for effort. Now do tell me what is on your mind before you explode all over my sitting room."

She tried to display neither her pride in receiving a rare compliment, however Snapeishly-extended it may have been, nor her embarrassment at having hidden her emotions so poorly, but she was sure she didn't manage either, so she just carried on.

"I was thinking of what you said about whether I was willing to sacrifice my childhood for this, that I was choosing to become an adult quickly. I made a mental joke that I was willing but that that sort of thing was a bit out of my control. Then I realized that that wasn't exactly true."

The customary eyebrow urged her to continue, "I spoke to Professor McGonagall this morning and told her I wished to resume the classes I was taking back in my third year. I told her I regretted deeply not continuing and proposed to spend the summer making up the coursework I should have completed this year. After a great deal of explanation and a little bit of pleading she finally acquiesced."

 _She looks as if that should mean something to me. What am I missing?_

"And what does your taking an irresponsible number of classes have to do with our little project?"

She looked momentarily surprised, probably assuming that whatever she was about to reveal had been common knowledge, then monumentally pleased as she realized that it was not. She then fumbled with the neck of her robes and pulled out a fine gold chain with a tiny hourglass on it.

For once, Professor Snape's expressions were apparent enough for even a Gryffindor to read. He came as close as he ever did to gaping as he leaned in to examine it, trying to ignore the cat-who-ate-the-canary smile that seemed to have conquered Granger's face.

"Minerva gave a fifteen year old a _time turner_?!"

She relished every second the shock lingered on his face. "Well, technically she gave a twelve year old a time turner. She gave a fifteen year old _back_ her time turner."

" _That's_ how you managed to take all those classes in your third year and still managed to write infuriatingly long essays?"

She smiled and nodded happily. Finally realizing that his mouth had been open for quite some time, he shut it with a snap, leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of tea. When he spoke again, the mask of control that was Severus Snape was firmly back in place, albeit with a small hint of amusement.

"Well that does make matters a great deal easier, now doesn't it? I would say points to Gryffindor, but with the subterfuge to which you resorted to get it, I feel a different house might be more fitting for you at the moment."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione grinned unabashedly at the most direct incidence of praise she had ever received from Severus Snape.

"And have you any other revelations that will allow us to rupture the space-time continuum?"

Hermione shook her head, the ghost of a satisfied smile still lingering.

"Well then, I will walk you through the framework of what I will be teaching you. This is not a class, this is real life. We will hope the tests are as infrequent as possible and the only grades that will matter are your ability to survive and to help your friends do so as well."

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, creating an eerie vacuum of silence. She nodded once and he continued.

"I looked at the preliminary equations you 'accidentally' left on my desk last night and had two primary concerns. First, although your work is adequately accurate, your cast of characters is too small. There are far more players at work in the situation than you have listed. So your first assignment is to begin observing those around you in a more objective manner. Everyone you see could have an impact on the things to come, so while you correctly identified the main players, there is far more to it than that. And why am I not surprised you have a question already?"

She looked down and realized she had been anxiously twisting her hands in her lap to avoid the urge to raise one of them. _Remind me never to play poker against Professor Snape._

"What do you mean observe? Isn't it pretty obvious who could have a role in things?"

"That actually leads me to my second point quite well. Dumbledore is partial to extremes. He believes in the power of love over hate, good over evil, and so on. What he doesn't tell you is that these extremes don't actually exist, at least not in people. There is love and hate in everyone. The same with good and evil. Even our housing system is based on the myth that categorization is actually possible. Take yourself, Miss Granger. You call yourself a Gryffindor, but everyone who has ever had the misfortune of sitting in class with you has wondered why you were not sorted into Ravenclaw," she nodded. "I have some missing Boomslang skin in my store room that would wager you would have made a decent Slytherin had you been placed there, and how many times have you proved your _loyalty_ ," he stressed the word to emphasize the Hufflepuff reference, "to those infernal friends of yours even when others would have hexed them into oblivion?"

All the pieces made sense, but she had never thought of them in that way. She was beginning to feel the arrival of one of those headaches she got when she read too-technical books for too long and her brain began to feel full. However, headache or not, she wasn't going to miss a word. She nodded, hoping he would continue without her having to opine.

"Your question was how to observe those around you. I want you to look at the people who you say will obviously have a role in things, but analyze the parts most don't see. For example, Potter's _bravery_ and _loyalty,_ " he sneered through the words as if they caused him physical pain, "have been well documented over the years. What are his downfalls? His weaknesses? And just as Mister Potter is not all good, others are not pure evil. Look at those you assume are on the side of darkness and evaluate what you aren't seeing."

He paused to assess the degree to which he had reduced her safe little worldview to shambles, and was pleased to see her thinking deeply about what he had said, her facial expressions more closely mimicking a child with a new puzzle than one who had just dropped their ice cream cone. _Good. She was indeed ready. Or at least ready enough._

"I'm trying to figure out how this will help…" she paused, clearly mid revelation. "This is why you aren't more worried that the Arithmancy suggests that there is no hope. You think we have preventable weaknesses or undiscovered allies?"

The emergence of a rare, genuine smile, however faint, on his face where condescension usually reigned meant more to her than gales of praise from any other teacher.

"Exactly, Miss Granger. Though I would not go as far as saying I am not worried, but I do think with some _basic strategy_ ," a sneer she was surely directed at Albus not herself, "we may have a chance of not suffering an immediate and overwhelming defeat."

With that, he stood up, clearly bringing the meeting to an end.

"Tomorrow is the last day of term. I will have no grounds to issue another detention, but come by to get your graded final paper at this time and I will go over your summer schedule. Your little revelation has given me some ideas."


	4. 4: Summer Plans

**So for those of us in America (or with internet connections) this has been a very tumultuous 24 hours. I personally needed something to make me happy today, so you guys get a bonus chapter. Consolation reviews will be accepted gladly. The girl who made my sandwich at my usual lunch spot gave me a free cookie because she said I looked so sad. Not all Americans are crazy, but I guess I underestimated the percentages a bit. Now, enough politics. More Severus...**

* * *

The girl is getting a little bit more comfortable around me, he thought when he heard the knock on the door at 5:57. I'm not sure if that bodes well for me or not. He opened the door with a nod and paced over to his desk.

"First things first, here is your final paper. It would have been full marks if you had stuck to required length. More is not always better, Miss Granger." She grabbed her paper a little too quickly and searched through the spiky red comments for her final grade before realizing that she was only proving his point and looking up abashedly to find him observing her with more than a little amusement in his eyes. She hastily shoved the paper into the overly large bag she had slung over her shoulder and looked up, hoping he would move on without further comment.

"As for the summer, I have made it known to Albus and to the Dark Lord that I intend to apprentice you. To Albus, it is an excellent cover for our training, to the Dark Lord it is one more way for me to keep close watch on Potter, to my Slytherins I will be enjoying extorting the golden girl of Gryffindor for manual labor, to Potter and Weasley, whose trust I am certain not to possess, you are keeping an eye on me, and to the rest of the school your swottish tendencies led you to beg for an early apprenticeship in hopes of completing more than one."

Her mind reeled at just how many angles his mind had covered for one small decision. Actually, one large decision. One life altering decision, come to think of it. Four days ago she would have been jumping for joy if Professor Snape had offered her an apprenticeship at only fifteen. A lot had changed in the last four days. Now she was excited, but she put celebrating off to later, considering instead the implications.

"As my new apprentice, I have full plans for your summer. Plans that will involve your new adornment there." He gestured to the folds of her robes where her time turner was carefully hidden.

"You will double up on each day. The first iteration will be spent as your schoolgirl self. I assume your parents are quite used to you being absorbed in a book, so I have procured you some light reading. "

With that he patted a pile of books on his desk that would have made Harry or Ron's heads spin. Out of the dozen plus books she could make out a few titles, including 'Logic, Strategy, and Modern Warfare', 'Pureblood Wizarding Customs Throughout the Ages', and 'Masters Level Potions, Abridged Version', the last of which must have been joking because wielded in the correct hands it was large enough to be quite a dangerous weapon. Hermione's eyes almost bugged out with poorly concealed joy, occasion in another almost smile from Professor Snape.

"Please refrain from drooling on my carpet, Miss Granger. As I said, these are for your schoolgirl alterego. I will allow you the first week to spend studying them, plus whatever social frivolities your family expects of you when you arrive home. After that week, I expect you to begin training. As I said, you will double each day with your time turner. After spending the first iteration of each day studying in plain sight, so to speak, each day's second iteration will be spent at a separate location where you will receive more hands on training. I have procured a room there for your use, so you may sleep there as well if you need a night's sleep after your second version of the day. At this location, you will have various instructors who will teach you, well, whatever they damn well please. Do not embarrass me."

"How will I know how to get to this location, sir?"

"Most of the time one of my associates" the word was said with a sneering type of humor she couldn't really decode, "will transport you to your training location, but after your first week of summer I will come collect you myself. Throughout the summer we will meet periodically to discuss your progress and various other topics, but I do not know what kind of calls on my time there will be. If you do need to send messages to me, and for this I do apologize, it is most secure to do so through this." As he handed her a small framed picture, she almost dropped it as a dark looking wizard in very old fashioned robes groused up at them with surprising volume.

"I heard that, Severus. I am not a 'this'. I may be dead, but I am still not an object."

"Do be quiet, Phineas. When I want your opinion I will give it to you."

"Oh you're lucky I'm dead, boy. You really plan to pass me off to this dirty..." his voice was suddenly and abruptly silenced as Professor Snape snatched the portrait back out of Hermione's hands and slammed it face down on the desk. Hermione looked at him with wide eyes and an inquisitive head tilt, having guessed where the portrait's next words were going to land.

"You will not use that word in my presence or in that of a lady, do you understand, Phineas?" There was some mumbling from the surface of the painting facing the desk. Hermione couldn't make heads or tails of it, but judging from Professor Snape's actions she assumed he had answered in the begrudging affirmative. As he was being handed back to Hermione, the man in the portrait was angrily straightening his Slytherin-green robes and brushing himself off as if a great affront had been made to his dignity.

"Miss Granger, meet Phineas Nigellus Black, the only Slytherin headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, grandfather to the mangy mutt Potter calls a godfather, pureblood elitist, and one of the best strategists that ever roamed these halls. Did I leave anything out, Phineas?" The portrait gave him a very dirty look, accompanied by an even dirtier gesture.

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape, portrait in hand, with the look most students had given Hagrid upon being handed The Monster Book of Monsters. Seeing her expression, Professor Snape snorted and replied offhandedly, "His bark is much worse than his bite. I borrowed this portrait from another location. The other one is in the castle and will be able to get messages back and forth without arousing suspicion. I don't know how you two will get along due to your heritage, but if you do manage to win his respect there is a wealth of knowledge waiting for you."

While Snape was making snide comments in his head about mousetraps and perfectly-placed bits of cheese, Hermione was making similarly uncharitable observations about her joy at having one more irascible, hard-to-please Slytherin in her life. She quietly began attempting to find a way to place Phineas' portrait into her already-overstuffed bag without ruffling the already-discontent headmaster's metaphorical feathers or alerting Snape to the very real threat of structural failure that her bag was currently suffering.

"Actually, that won't be necessary, Miss Granger. I have one more item for you." He crossed to the cabinets behind his desk and pulled out a leather bag, about half the size of her current monstrosity. The leather was deep, dark black that occasionally flashed either shiny purple or luminescent green, depending on the way the light hit it. She could sense the magic pulsating around it as he brought it over.

"It is traditional for Masters to present their Apprentices with a gift at the beginning of their apprenticeship. Something that will help them complete their studies more successfully. Given the duress under which you so routinely place the seams of your current bag, I see no object more fitting than this." He held out the bag and as she touched it she could clearly feel the magic emanating from the inside of the bag. Curiously though, she could feel no such pulses from the outside of the bag. She looked up at him for clarification.

"The outside is covered in dragonhide, which will not only contain any magic from objects within but should also protect its contents from any damage from the outside world. It also has certain, spatial advantages." The last part was said with a smirk. He motioned for her to open it and proceeded to stack all fifteen or so of her assigned reading books into the bag which, from outside appearances, should have been able to fit maybe one or two of the smaller texts. To his great amusement, Hermione completely forgot to school her expression, openly gaped, and for a brief second looked like she was seriously considering putting her head into the bag to see where they had all gone.

He laughed softly at her awe. You can take the girl out of the muggle world, but you can't completely take the muggle out of the girl. "If you can fit it through the opening, the bag can hold it, so far without exception. It also has a weightless charm on it so it should eliminate that perpetual backache you've been hiding since September of your first year." He was appropriately gratified to see the momentary flash of shock cross her face. Underestimating my powers of observation again, Miss Granger. Tisk tisk. He suddenly found himself needing to look away from the look of unadulterated awe on her face. Was I ever that innocent? That awestruck by the world?

"Now, you've overstayed your welcome as it is, Miss Granger. Start on your reading, don't miss the train, and I will have one of my associates pick you up at 8am your first day home. He will take you to the location of your training." And with a curt nod she could tell she was being dismissed. She got all the way to the door before she turned back and uttered a quiet, "thank you, Professor" to his turned back.

* * *

Hermione sat on the train looking over the index she had made of the books Professor Snape had gotten her. She had divided it by subject, trying to get some idea of what exactly she had gotten herself into.

Potions:

Sixth Year Potions

Seventh Year Potions

Masters Level Potions, Abridged Version

Potions Your Master Won't Teach You

Defense (And Offense, Apparently) Against the Dark Arts:

Occlumency: Strategy and Practice

Magick Moste Evil

A Book of Five Rings (a muggle book?)

Masters Level Defense Against the Dark Arts (oh goody. unabridged.)

Using Dark Curses for Light Purposes

Cheap Shots, Ambushes, and Other Lessons (looks like muggle hand to hand combat?)

Warfare Strategy:

An Abridged History of Wizarding Wars

Dark Lords and Their Rise to Power

On Guerilla Warfare (by Mao Tse-Tung, another muggle book!)

Logic, Strategy, and Modern Warfare

Psychology:

The 48 Laws of Power (that makes four muggle books)

Pureblood Wizarding Customs Throughout the Ages (why is he having me read this?)

Ezkrizdis, Grindelwald, and Voldemort, Dark Lords Through the Ages

While it was she who had made the first move by coming to Professor Snape, he sure seemed to have a curriculum for whatever was she was doing all prepared. Could he really have gathered this in the short few days between last night and our first meeting, or was this something he had been thinking of doing for a while? Somehow she felt that with Professor Snape every piece of information she seemed to find brought up a handful more questions. Well I do love a good mystery. Hermione added this to the end of another list she had been working on in her ever-present notebook, one of things she needed to think about or figure out.

Hermione's Points To Ponder (Unabridged Version, ha bloody ha):

Which people did Professor Snape think I was overlooking and what does he see that I don't?

Assets and liabilities (create lists for myself, Harry, Ron...Dumbledore and Snape maybe? Who else?)

Why hasn't Dumbledore been training Harry like this for ages?

Why do the equations insist that it will be Harry who faces him?

Why did Professor Snape volunteer to help me?

She had to ration the amount of time she spent staring at that list. It seemed short enough, but she kept getting stuck on each question, feeling her brain begin to smoke, and move on to the next question only to find it just as irksome. If there was only some way she could…

"HERMIONE!" Harry and Ron's simultaneous voices jerked her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, boys?" She had the sense to look appropriately embarrassed. She often accidentally ignored people (or forgot their presence entirely, as she just had done) when she was thinking.

"Bloody hell. It's not like we've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes or anything." She knew he was joking. Probably.

"You do know that school is over, right? We took our exams. You got top marks. Any of that ring a bell?" Harry's tone was as jovial as she had heard it since Cedric died, which honestly wasn't saying much. Voldemort's return had done nothing for any of their spirits.

"Yes. I just...well, I want to be prepared." She stopped, trying to convince herself to tell them what was going on. "You know me, books and lists are how I do that. I guess I was just deep in thought." Harry reached across the compartment and squeezed her hand. She looked up and found sincerity in his green eyes. Glancing to his left she found an attempt at a reassuring smile on Ron's face. She nodded and smiled grimly back at them. She was lucky to have such good friends. They all new that something was coming, but ever since the troll they had gotten through these things together. They would again. At least that was what they all kept telling themselves as reassurance. I should tell them everything. She rode the rest of the way to King's Cross Station in companionable silence with that thought on the tip of her brain. She didn't know why, but whatever she had started she wasn't ready to share it with the boys. Not yet anyway.


	5. 5: Home Sweet Home

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews/favs. I absolutely love hearing from you guys as you read. This one is a bit transition-y, as we're still in the "set up" phase, but I'll try to get a new one up sooner rather than later to make up for it.**

 **As always, let me know what you think! I'm always open to suggestions.**

* * *

Hermione lay on her bed completely surrounded by a nest of books. She was glad Professor Snape had given her the first week of summer to get a jump on the reading he had given her. He hadn't said that she should be doubling up on her time during this first week, but he hadn't expressly forbidden it either, so she had started her new summer schedule a bit early. She did the first turn of the day quietly on her room with the door shut and locked. The second turn she researched out in the common areas of the house and that 'public Hermione' ran defense for the 'private Hermione' shut up in her room. She had taken to stomping up the creaky staircase in a remarkable impression of Ron in order to warn herself that she or someone else was coming.

Seeing as she had to sleep twice, the only odd part was trying to fall asleep knowing that she was also curled up in one of her old sleeping bags on the floor of her walk in closet. She tried to minimize the amount time she spent with herself, but seeing as both were quite aware of what was happening it wasn't really necessary to hide from herself either. It was an odd sensation indeed to pass oneself while getting dressed or wake yourself up because the other self was snoring, but since she had entered the magical world far stranger things had happened.

It had taken her the first five (ten in 'Hermione time') days to finish most of the books Professor Snape had given her (she had only read _Sixth Year Potions_ , assuming they would progress in sequence). She had found the military strategy books tolerable, but she could tell right away that commanding an army wasn't on her immediate to do list. Too much talk of sacrificing some lives for the greater good of many. When reading through those books she actually kept having flashbacks to the giant chess game Ron had played to get to the stone in first year. Her first official entry onto Ron's assets and liabilities list had been "skilled at chess - could be applied to wartime strategy".

The defense books made her palms sweat and her wand hand itch. She had helped Harry prepare for the Triwizard Tournament and she had good enough marks in defense, but that was pretty much the only experience she had in that area. Knowing she would need to know this material instinctively quite soon and the idea that someday her life could depend on it made her want to hide the books under her bed or join a gym and she wasn't sure which.

The books that really piqued her interests were the psychology books. Seeing Voldemort as one of many Dark Lords made him a phenomenon she could study, research, and (hopefully) understand. She had expanded her reading in this area to include muggle books on criminology, deviant psychology, and criminal profiling. Okay, she might have turned back for a few bonus hours each day and stayed reading in her walk in closet where neither 'bedroom Hermione' nor 'outside world Hermione' would be bothered by her, but in her defense the books were _really_ interesting and she was keeping a thorough log, just as she had during her third year to ensure she knew, down to the minute, just how many hours she had doubled (or tripled up on).

In her third year she had added an extra twelve hours per day, between classes, study time, and the occasional self-preservation nap. Across a nine month school term she had added four and a half months to her age, making her current age sixteen not fifteen. She knew this should probably be more concerning to her than it was, but she had always been too mature for her age, so what difference would it make if she was too old for her age too?

Additionally, she wanted to be sure she knew the material well enough by her first meeting with Professor Snape. She couldn't figure him out. She always had a desire to please her professors, this was part and parcel of being the swot of the century (as Ron had so affectionately referred to her once), but her thoughts and emotions surrounding Professor Snape felt different than simply trying to please a professor. It was a cross between that, trying to figure out a logic puzzle, and...something else she couldn't identify. She knew he had a brilliant mind and she knew he was working on the right side of the war, so maybe something in her needed to get to know him well enough to figure out what events had led a brilliant mind into such a precarious (and by that she meant outright dangerous and quasi-suicidal) position.

Maybe that was it. Maybe not. Maybe it was the lingering question that still hung heavily in her thoughts about why he had agreed to help her, not to mention apprentice her. She was a Gryffindor, know it all, and a friend of Harry Potter. If Severus Snape employed a three strikes policy she should have been kicked out of his rooms before she even got words out of her mouth. Why had he agreed to help her? To work with her?

Finally, and this was the most unnerving part of it all, she couldn't help but feeling that she liked him. Not like _that_ , but in the extremely rare unguarded moments she had witnessed in between sarcastic comments or under extreme stress or sleep deprivation she had to admit that she found his snarky sense of humor quite entertaining. When his snide comments were not directed at you they could be quite amusing. Not to mention that she would give her eye teeth for someone who would discuss the latest article in _Potions Quarterly_ or the latest theory she read about in a book with her without rolling their eyes, nodding off, or scampering off to play quidditch halfway through her first sentence.

 _Do I want to become friends with Severus Snape? Oh gods, next up, we have the second horseman of the apocalypse, Malfoy in a pink tutu offering ice cream to muggleborns. This summer has only just begun and I'm already going batty._

* * *

She had been reading peacefully on her bed six days after she had left Hogwarts when she heard a muffled string of increasingly-loud and increasingly-profane shouting coming from inside her new bag. _Thank goodness it's spellproof, but not soundproof._ She reached in and pulled out a still-swearing Phineas.

"Sorry, Headmaster. Did you need something?" She tried to ask politely.

"We haven't got the time to go over the comprehensive list of things I need, but fresh air or light every once in a while are near the top, girlie."

"I hadn't thought that the comings and goings of a teenage girl's bedroom would hold that much interest to you, sir. Plus, as you know my parents are muggles and, while accepting of our world, are not exactly accustomed to talking paintings."

"If you ever suggest that I spend my days with your _muggle_ parents again, I will devote myself to convincing Professor Snape of your insanity and I won't rest until you're in the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's, girl. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." She realized Gryffindor politeness (or politeness of any kind, come to think of it) would likely have no effect on this man, so she decided brevity was the best way to go until she figured out a preferable alternative. "Did you have something to tell me, sir?"

"Professor Snape wanted me to relay the message that he will come to collect you at 9am prompt tomorrow morning. He will be at the door, but will not ring the bell. Do not be late and bring the materials he gave you as well as a change of clothing that does not restrict movement."

"Thank you, sir." The portrait stared at her awkwardly for a long minute, as if challenging her to put him back in the bag again. After pushing down the urge to do just that, she got an idea. "My room has an excellent view of the sunset each night. Would you like me to face you towards the window? That way we both have some privacy, but you get to see the outside world." She may not be a Slytherin, but she could have sworn she saw a flash of excitement on his face at the word sunset before it was swallowed back up by a begrudging sneer.

"That seems to be a less objectionable alternative than that bloody bag." And with that she placed him on the corner of her desk, facing out the window and tried not to smirk at the slightly-pleased look on his face as she began getting ready for the next morning.

* * *

As promised, Professor Snape was on her doorstep the next morning. She was waiting and ready at the door so at exactly 9:00 she opened it and walked out to the strangest sight she had ever seen. While she had known Professor Snape was neither stupid nor careless enough to wear his usual billowing teaching robes to a muggle neighborhood, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her buttoned up professor standing on her stoop in a pair of black, athletic windpants and a plain, black, muggle, athletic tee shirt.

"Muggle neighborhood," he muttered, an explanation and an expletive, as he saw her notice his clothing. However, Professor Snape was thoroughly himself, regardless of wardrobe, and he roughly led her out around the corner of her house into the out-of-view, gated enclosure separating her house's front and back yards. He stopped abruptly, using her continuing momentum to pull her onto his arm as he disapparated without explanation or warning.

When they appeared her head was spinning as a result of her first side-along apparition and she felt Professor Snape's hands grab her upper arms and hold her steady while she regained her balance and got a hold on her stomach, grateful she had only had a light breakfast. When she caught her breath, she opened her eyes to find him staring intensely down at her. She held his gaze for a half second, trying to remember how to breathe, before he dropped her arms and quickly stepped away. With him across the room her breath suddenly found her again and she looked around to find herself inside an entirely white, windowless room with no doors or windows to speak of.

"This is the apparition entry I was _allowed_ to set up for our _esteemed_ safe house," both words sneered with more malice than she had previously thought even Professor Snape to be capable of producing. She wondered what had caused this sudden spike in venom, but was quickly distracted by a strange blue light that seemed to come from a pinpoint source at eye level on the wall closest to Professor Snape. The light engulfed him like an alien spaceship from a poorly funded muggle film before the light flashed white and disappeared. She then was engulfed in a blue cone of light of her own which suddenly turned red. She would have turned to Professor Snape to ask what was happening, but she found herself completely frozen, incapable of even the smallest movement. Glad to be paralyzed at least in that Professor Snape couldn't see her panicking, she heard him chanting something behind her in a voice too low to make out, she felt a warm tingle all over her body as the light turned the same bright white it had for Professor Snape and she felt herself regain control of her limbs. This was followed by a thin plane of blue light that swept across the entire room from top to bottom, like a tub of water suddenly emptying, and a blinding white flash. When she regained her vision she looked around to find her environment completely changed.

She was now in what looked like the foyer of a very old, poorly maintained home. There was a grimy rug running the length of the hall and grumpy looking wizards and witches in portraits on top of the cracking, dingy wallpaper.

"Welcome, Miss Granger, to Grimmauld place. Fideliused safe house and home to the Order of the Phoenix."


	6. 6: Secrets, Orders, and More Secrets

**Happy Thanksgiving-is-over-everyone-can-go-home-now day. To celebrate being home from the airport at a decent hour, voila, a chapter! Still sort of intro-y, but I swear we're getting to the good stuff.**

* * *

"Welcome, Miss Granger, to Grimmauld place. Fideliused safe house and home to the Order of the Phoenix."

 _It was sort of fun, in a sadistic kind of way, to watch the questions scratch and claw at each other in the brutal struggle to be the first out of her mouth._ He gave her just enough time to almost settle on a winner before interrupting her thought process.

"No questions right now, Miss Granger. Please follow me."

He watched the look of frustration on her face with more enjoyment than he probably should have. _Gods, if my Slytherins were this easy to bait I'd never get anything done._ He led her down a hallway into what looked like a formal dining room. He sat down at one end of the table and gestured to the seat across from him. She sat and waited for him to explain, well, everything. Much to her surprise, he didn't keep her in suspense.

"Back in the 1970's the Dark Lord began gaining power. It started off below the radar of most wizards, but Dumbledore saw what was happening earlier than most. Why do you believe that was, Miss Granger?"

She looked at him, startled to be questioned so shortly into what she had expected would be a decently long explanation.

"I am not just going to hand you bite-sized morsels of information and pause for you to write them down the way we teachers are expected to at Hogwarts. If I do nothing else this summer it will be to teach you to think for yourself. You have shown yourself quite capable of taking in and regurgitating information. That places you at the lead of the pack of morons you call classmates, yet the difference between knowledge and intelligence is the ability to form unique connections between two unrelated pieces of information, to connect them in a way that generates more meaning than the two individual facts. So think, Miss Granger. Why was Dumbledore specifically suited to recognize that Tom Riddle would turn into the Dark Lord?"

She paused to think about Dumbledore. She hadn't read much about him because she had spent most of her last week delving into the history of _dark_ wizards...that was it!

"Dumbledore was friends with Gellert Grindelwald when they were both young." Professor Snape nodded, making it clear she was on the right track but he expected more. "He watched the way a possibly benign sense of ambition led Grindelwald down a dark path, so when he saw a bright mind like Tom Riddle exhibiting the same or similar symptoms he knew not only what was happening but how bad it could be, if left unchecked."

"Correct," Hermione received one of the approving smirks that, in potions class, were exclusively reserved for the Slytherin students. "Dumbledore knew that Tom Riddle could not be, as you say, left unchecked, so he established a secret group of opposition. The Order of the Phoenix was thereby established in his opposition. It fought against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters throughout the first Wizarding War and was not disbanded until Mister Potter had his encounter with the Dark Lord."

"The Order of the Phoenix included Professors Lupin, McGonagall, and myself as well as many of your friends' parents including Misters Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter. Unfortunately, as you know, the group also included the other two marauders, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, in whose _lovely_ ," again, the word held more venom than should be physically possible to expel in just two syllables, "abode we currently sit. Upon escaping from Azkaban and given a reprieve by the _great and might Albus Dumbledore,"_ again sneered with every ounce of malice he possessed, "he volunteered this place as a safe house for the Order, which has, in light of Potter's recent revelations, been reassembled."

"Professor…" she trailed off, not wanting to get thrown out of the safe house her first day there for asking impertinent questions.

"Ask your questions, Miss Granger. I will give you more leave than that of a normal student while we are here or when it is just the two of us. If you are to be given more responsibilities in this war you need to have the full information. I will not hesitate to let you know if and when you cross a line, and you have the sense not to raise any sensitive issues when anyone other than me is within earshot."

She took a deep breath and continued tentatively, "you say that you were a member of the Order of the Phoenix and that it fought against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, yet Harry said he saw…" her eyes drifted down to his covered left forearm.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I am also one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. You have come very close to the line, but have yet to step directly on it. All you need to know about the matter is that I joined the Death Eaters when I left school but quickly realized my mistake. At that point I presented myself to Dumbledore as the perfect tool for infiltrating an otherwise impenetrable enemy organization and proved myself to be of monumental use during the first war. As you know, I returned to the Dark Lord the night he returned and have since resumed the arrangement."

"How does it work, sir? I mean, the arrangement you speak of?" He didn't like discussing a matter of such a personal nature with this chit of a girl, but, he reminded himself, _if you truly intend to turn her into the weapon of your plans you will have to interact with her on far more sensitive matters than this._ He scanned her eyes and found no malice, only honest curiosity, and continued slowly.

"I have neither the full trust nor, I suspect, the full respect of either master. The Dark Lord believes that I am a self-serving Slytherin like himself and will therefore show him my ultimate loyalty because he believes himself to have more to offer. As long as I act the convincing Death Eater when he calls and continue to feed him viable information about the goings on at Hogwarts my status remains...stable. Dumbledore knows the reasons for which I came to an ideological impasse with the Dark Lord," he hastily cut off the brewing questions he could see in her face, "reasons that will remain between him and myself so do not even think to ask," and resumed his previous even tempo of explanation, "but for those reasons Dumbledore believes that my loyalties have honestly shifted."

"And how does your, erm," she gestured again towards his left sleeve, "work?"

"Of course you would be curious about every little detail, wouldn't you?" She honestly couldn't tell whether the statement was said to mock her or as a compliment. He looked like he was fighting an internal war for a few seconds before he reluctantly rolled up his sleeve and laid his forearm across the table. She tried not to goggle at it too obviously, but she definitely felt him stiffen nonetheless as she leaned closer to examine it. As she looked, he began to speak. For a second she could have sworn he spoke partially to cover up what must be an exceedingly rare moment of insecurity.

"The Dark Lord created the dark mark as a sign for his most loyal Death Eaters. It not only serves as a brand to show that we are _his property"_ said with almost as much malice as he used to discuss Sirius, "but also as a functional link between himself and all his followers. When he presses on the mark of any one Death Eater, we all feel our marks burn, after which we can use the mark to apparate directly to the Dark Lord, and when they are inactive, so to speak, they still act as a conduit between the mark and the Dark Lord."

"How do you mean a conduit, sir?"

"As you have noticed, hearing the Dark Lord's name causes the mark to burn, but what most people don't know is that the Dark Lord can feel when this happens. He can't hear specifically what has been said or Dumbledore would have gotten me killed years ago, but he can tell that someone has dared to use his name in my presence. It's one of his many ways to assess the relative loyalty of his followers."

She nodded briefly, too busy processing what she had just heard to think to ask the millions of questions she knew would come flooding into her mind the second she was alone with a piece of paper. He seized the rare pause in her usually insatiable curiosity and quickly snatched his arm back and began buttoning up his sleeve.

"We seem to have strayed from our intended topic. While I have set forth the basic structure of your much-needed crash course in, well, everything, I do have better things to do than spend my entire summer tutoring you in the ways of the world. I have thus recruited some other members of the order to aid in your training. It was not a pleasant task for me to ask favors of so many of my colleagues, nor was I obligated to do so. You will repay me by listening to what they have to say, critically evaluating what you hear, and refraining from annoying them badly enough that they come complaining to me. Understood?"

"At precisely 7am each morning I will have one of my associates pick you up from your home. From 11 to 1 you will come here and work on your potions. I have a lab in the basement and each day you will brew. Covering one week's worth of material per day, if we stay on schedule, I should be able to get you through fifth, sixth, and seventh year potions before school begins in September. This way you should be ready to start your apprenticeship in the fall."

She tried to restrain her facial expressions at the nonchalance with which he laid out that ambitious of a schedule, but she could tell from the fleck of amusement in his eyes that she had been unsuccessful.

"From one to two you will be having lunch with a different order member each day. Each will have a specific topic to discuss with you and I highly recommend taking a few minutes afterwards to jot down some notes on what was discussed. As I mentioned before, I have procured you a bedroom here so you don't… get in your own way."

By her count she was up to 56 hours per day, which meant that, including her use of the time turner in her third year, she would be turning eighteen at the end of the summer instead of seventeen. _I did volunteer to give up my childhood. Joke's really on them though,seeing as I've been a 35 year old since I was in primary school,_ she joked to herself.

"After you finish your notes from lunch, you will be studying practical defense against the dark arts with the real Alastor Moody. He is still recovering from his time in the trunk and has yet to return to the aurors' department. I was able to convince him that teaching you would be a mutually beneficial situation for the both of you, as he hasn't yet become reaccustomed to human interaction. Good luck, Miss Granger."

She gulped. If the real Moody was anything like his polyjuiced counterpart, for whom 'rough around the edges' would have been a glowing compliment, she could only imagine what being locked in a trunk for nine months would have done to his disposition.

"Finally, you will attend the order's nightly meeting for dinner. Again, I had to go to great lengths to secure you this privilege. Sit quietly, take notes if you must, speak only when spoken to, and do not make me regret it. After dinner you may retire to your bedroom here until my associate returns you to your home at 7:05, so you don't bump into yourself. Questions?"

"Just one, Professor. If I'm to be picked up at 7, but I don't begin brewing until 11, what will I be doing for the first three hours of the day?"

She saw Professor Snape's mouth twist into what was simultaneously the most genuine and most terrifying smile she had ever seen on his usually-stern face.

"You will be spending each morning with one of my first mentors and oldest friends," he said with an almost Albus-esque twinkle in his eye. "I will take you to meet him now, as a matter of fact. I have some business to attend to in the same neighborhood, so today I will serve as your transportation. I will leave you two until 11 when I will collect you to come back and begin brewing."

With that he ushered her back into the Apparition room and held out his arm. Knowing what was coming this time she braced herself and barely stumbled when they reappeared. However, her step did falter slightly when she looked around her. He was leading her down the grimiest muggle street she had ever seen towards what looked like a boarded up version of a saloon from an old American cowboy movie. Somehow the beat up door still opened and she followed Professor Snape inside wondering just what they could possibly be doing in the place.


	7. 7: Edgar

**Okay, so you must excuse me for introducing an OC here. I know I said I'd keep this as canon as possible, but I started to write and this guy was just sitting there staring at me. Let me know if you like him or if you'd rather he exist in the background but not be seen too much.**

 **Also, happy friggen Monday everybody. We'll get through this together.**

* * *

Hermione had, upon pushing open the grimy and partially boarded-up door, expected this building to be a Muggle front for a wizarding building. Usually the best places to hide wizarding communities were in places Muggles would see and immediately forget or, even better, that would make them quickly lock their car doors and drive away a little faster. This run-down establishment, labeled only as "Bar" that she could see, would have been perfect.

However, when her eyes adjusted to the dingy light, Hermione found herself in the middle of a Muggle bar just as dingy as it appeared on the outside. There were no customers, strike that, there was one former customer slouched over in the back booth, drink still in hand, but laying sideways, amber liquid stains on his fingers and the table where it had poured out of the glass. There were suspicious stains all over the floor, along with dirt and what she thought to be the shells of some kind of nut. Some of the chairs were upended on their respective tables, while others were on their sides on the floor. There was an abused punching bag hanging in one back corner and a jukebox so beat up she couldn't see how it was still lit up in the other.

The only conscious soul in the place was a grizzly old man who was smoking with one hand while wiping down the bar with the other. Can you really attempt to clean something with a rag dirtier than the object itself? Hoping the feeling of distaste wasn't showing up too clearly on her face she looked towards Professor Snape in hopes he would give her some insight as to what they were doing there, but judging from his poorly concealed snicker she knew her emotions, as per Gryffindor usual, might as well have been written across her forehead.

"It's not going to get any cleaner until your right hand learns what the left is doing, Edgar," Professor Snape bantered across the room without looking away from Hermione. "The ashes from your death stick are falling in the ice bin again." This was received by the old man with a snort and what could only be described as a friendly grumble, as Hermione could make out not a single individual word.

After taking in a few more seconds of her shock, Professor Snape crossed to the bar and exchanged a hearty forearm clasp and back pat with the man. As he came out from behind the bar Hermione could see he had the same build as Professor Snape, neither skinny nor fat, with the wiry athleticism of a greyhound dog. His posture and movements suggested a lifetime of abuse, whether from fighting, war, or substance abuse she couldn't tell, yet he retained an eerie quickness about him nonetheless.

"So, young Severus, this is her?" Hermione grew suddenly uncomfortable as she felt the old man's eyes analyzing her. She tried not to shift or show her discomfort as she wondered just what Professor Snape had told this man about her. Before she could come to a conclusion the man's eyes snapped back to Professor Snape and he nodded.

"She looks a little wet behind the ears but I recon she'll do just fine once we get her trained up a bit."

"As I told you, Edgar," Professor Snape confirmed whatever the old barkeep was insinuating. With a sudden huff of breath, Hermione found her building temper had wormed its way past her better sense's internal safeguards and was escaping out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"If the two of you are quite finished discussing me as if I was not present…?" Instead of acting insulted or embarrassed about Hermione's outburst, Professor Snape and Edgar both broke into eerily similar half smiles and shared a hearty chuckle.

"Exactly as you said, Severus. She's got spirit to spare, this one. This could be fun."

With a rush of blood to her cheeks Hermione realized that they had been winding her up. Whether it was just for amusement's sake or to assess her reaction she didn't know, but she was getting the feeling that, whomever this Muggle was, if he were a wizard he would have been a Slytherin for certain.

"Miss Granger, allow me to introduce you to Edgar. Barkeep by night, unofficial trainer by day, and he does a little drinking on the side, so don't expect anything pleasant in the olfactory department." He finished with a friendly jab of the elbow into Edgar's ribs.

"Severus has it wrong, Missy, I'm a drunk by trade and I do a little training on the side, but we won't hold it against him. He's clearly let all that ivory tower academia get to his head." The elbow was returned, though via one single jab that was much harder than she was expecting to come from a man of his age.

"And now Severus is going to leave us alone, because we have some work to do, don't we Severus?"

Professor Snape held up his hands in a mock surrender before turning to a now wide-eyed Hermione, "I'll be back at 11 to take you back to the safe house. Good luck, Miss Granger." And with that he strode purposefully out the door, his stride missing the billow of robes that usually accompanied such an exit.

Hermione watched him go, torn between annoyance that he had departed without first giving her any semblance of an explanation and a prickling worry about being left in a shifty bar by herself. She gulped and straightened her back and turned back to Edgar, who was once again eying her as if he was taking notes in his head. When she caught his eye he spoke, the reassuring tone of an elderly grandfather creeping into his voice where it had not been before when he was joking with Professor Snape.

"I've been here for the better part of forty years. Young Severus has been coming in here since he was ten. Ran in one day in the middle of a storm to escape a group of bullies that had been chasing him. Soaking wet, he was, but he still couldn't have weighed more than three or four stone even as wet as he was, but as soon as he skidded to a stop he pulled himself up to his full height and approached me with more dignity than most grown men. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, cool as anything, completely ignoring the fact that he'd come screeching in like his hair was on fire. I served him tea instead of the whisky he requested as it was obvious he couldn't be anywhere close to drinking age, but he sat there like a grown man trying to drown his sorrows. I could tell from the marks on his face it wasn't his first run-in with bullies. We got to talking and I finally got him to admit why he'd come in, so I offered to show him a few things. He stayed until night began to fall and I kicked him out before some of my more savory patrons began arriving, but he kept coming back so I kept teaching him. As the weeks went on, the marks started to fade and they never came back, so I guess it must've helped him. We still spar on the occasion. He's too quick for me now, but he still comes in for a visit whenever he's back from that far-away school of his."

Hermione's head was reeling. In one paragraph she had just learned more about her tight-lipped professor than she had in four years of class. She found herself strangely unsurprised by the image of Professor Snape as a scrappy youth in a bad part of town. It fit, somehow.

"So, Missy, he mentioned you were in one of his chemistry classes, but he didn't say much more than that. He just said that you would soon need to know the things I taught him and asked if I was willing to be, and I'll use his words on this one, 'pestered with more questions than any sane person should ever have'. I didn't want to say anything to him, but that's how I would have described him as a boy. It seems quite the irony that he now be in the position of mentoring a youth with too many questions after all he put me through, but it's best we leave that our little secret, huh, Missy?."

Hermione snapped herself out of the million-mile-an-hour rush of thoughts and revelations long enough to nod. After she had gathered her wits about her she finally spoke.

"So you'll be teaching me how to fight then? How to box?" She nodded towards the well-worn punching bag in the back corner, trying not to imagine a skinny 10 year old Professor Snape trying to sway it with his first attempts at punches.

"Yes and no. Any of these fancy new martial arts places can teach you the basic techniques of throwing a punch or how to box as a sport. I'm here to teach you how to win an actual fight. A real fight is dirty, and crooked, and there ain't no rules or referees to stop a fight if it gets messy. Real life fighting is nothing they'll teach you in a gym. Severus knows that better than most, which is why he thought to bring you to me." He paused and eyed her again.

"The only thing he didn't tell me is why a little spit of a girl such as yourself is going to need to know how to fight, but he gave me that look of his that means not to ask, so…" he paused, giving her a lovely opportunity to volunteer details. When none came he gave a brief sigh of disappointment and continued, "I guess I won't ask then. Now, I know Severus told you to bring something to wear that you could move in, so I'll guard the door to the lav while you get changed and we'll start with the basics."

* * *

By the time Professor Snape came to get Hermione every inch of her was drenched in sweat. Her hair, which she had attempted to secure in a knot on the back of her head, was escaping in every possible direction, tamed only by the moisture produced by her own scalp. The skin on the knuckles of both hands were red and on the verge of pealing, as was the skin on each elbow. Her legs and arms felt like wilted stalks and she was seriously doubting her own ability to stay upright as she heard the bells on the door begin to clang. She looked up and found Professor Snape in the doorway, surveying her with a look of amusement he didn't seem to be trying that hard to hide. Edgar put down the mitts he had been holding for her as targets and allowed her to sink gratefully into one of the dirty booths in the corner, where she began to attack a glass of water with all the fervency her noodle-like arms could muster.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked, an Albus-esque twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She gave him a brief deadpan before turning her attentions back to her almost-empty glass of water.

"Really takes you back, eh Severus?" Edgar asked, wiping the mild glow of perspiration off his own forehead. "She reminds me of someone." He directed a nostalgic smirk in Professor Snape's direction.

"I was never that bad, you old goat."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say my boy," he laughed and moved to help Hermione out of the booth. He offered her a hand in mock chivalry, but she gratefully accepted out of actual need, not sure her legs could actually have supported her effort to stand up once more. She walked slowly after Professor Snape, who had begun heading back to the door.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Missy. If there's anything that hurts tonight, throw some ice on it." Hermione threw him a smile and a half wave as she wasn't too sure of her ability to get her hands much higher than her waist at the moment.


	8. 8: Necessary Skills

**So glad you guys liked Edgar! I usually hate writing OCs, but he was rather pushy about being part of things. Anyway, we get some more Severus in this chapter, so all is well...**

* * *

"If you would like to take a few minutes to," he surveyed her person, smudged with dust, sweat, and more than a few peanut shells from the floor of the bar, many of which had lodged themselves into her hair, "collect yourself, I could show you to the room I have secured for your use while you are here."

Hermione nodded gratefully and he led her down a long hall, up a narrow staircase, and down another hall to a grimy little room with a twin bed and a small writing desk.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hall to your left. Feel free to take as long as you want to change and get yourself in order. I will meet you downstairs in thirty seconds." And with a small hint of a smirk he turned and strode from the room.

She was momentarily perplexed until she realized with a grin what he meant. _I guess he is going to be much more lenient about my abuse of the time turner than Professor McGonagall._ In her third year her stern head of house had been quite strict about her use of the device, only allowing her to go back for classes and for a three hour study window per day. Thinking back to Professor Snape's amused expression as he left the room she had to consider the fact that he might be even more reckless with it than she was. However, after a painful walk down the hall and somehow managing to peel off her grimy clothing, she decided, while massaging her aching muscles under the magically hot water, that using the time turner a little more thoroughly this time around might not be half bad.

* * *

By the time Professor Snape came striding down the stairs a freshly changed and showered Hermione was already downstairs waiting for him. He nodded approvingly at her before leading her down another narrow staircase to one of the most intriguing rooms she had ever seen. There was a fully functional potions lab set up throughout the room, but what really stuck out to Hermione was the fact that there were so many books crammed onto the shelves lining every wall that she could not actually locate any instances where the wall showed through. However, she noticed after a few seconds of ogling that the books appeared blurry. As she walked closer she realized that the walls were protected by a transparent shield of some sort that hovered about two feet from the books.

Seeing her enthusiasm, Professor Snape had to fight the urge to smile. _I wonder if there is anything you couldn't_ _get this girl to do for the access to a good library._ He would usually have made some insulting remark, but he found himself explaining, "It's a spell of my own design. A cross between a ward and a shield spell allowing wizards full access to the shelves while keeping them protected from any flying unpleasantries that may be projected out of the cauldrons."

"It's brilliant, Professor," she said under her breath as she stuck her fingers experimentally through the shield.

He found himself somewhat uncomfortable under her direct praise and found himself instinctively tipping his head forward so his hair covered his face, "well, such accidents are far less frequent in a lab without Mister Longbottom."

He had expected a burst of Gryffindor outrage, but he got a small chuckle and a knowing smile, "I'm sure that is accurate."

Hermione turned and faced him expectantly, but he gestured to one of the lab stools and sat down across the table from her.

"We will not begin brewing this week. There are a few necessary skills that I feel you really should know already, but learning them as soon as possible will have to suffice."

 _Way to make a girl feel behind on her first day._

"The first and foremost of these skills is the art of occlumency. Have you heard anything about it, Miss Granger?"

"It's the way you shield your mind from being read by other wizards, isn't it? I've heard it mentioned in my reading but no book has really been able to describe how it works."

"As I suspected. There's a reason most books can't teach something like occlumency and that is because most people who are capable of it do so almost completely by accident. It can be taught, but it is much more like learning to instinctively block a punch you didn't see coming than it is memorizing the steps to brew a potion or the wand movements for a charm. If you are instinctively gifted then our work will be much easier, but either way you will learn it as fully and quickly as possible. If for some reason the Dark Lord manages to get ahold of you and you haven't established at least a basic set of occlumency shields then it is my life as well as your own."

He could see the worry brewing in her eyes at the idea that there was an essential skill she couldn't learn from a book. Again, instead of a sarcastic comment, he felt himself reassuring her. A strange pattern that he would no doubt need to look into as soon as he had the time.

"Do not worry, Miss Granger. Your muggle background might actually have some advantage in this area. Most wizard-born children grow up aware of their magic and thus they take it for granted, not really paying attention to how it works. Muggle born witches and wizards are much more aware of what is happening inside their bodies when it comes to their magic. While it is not an exact parallel, this usually translates to an easier time controlling the magic of the mind as well. Are you familiar with the muggle concept of meditation?"

She nodded and shrugged to indicate a passing acquaintance with the concept.

"Most muggles think of meditation as taking dramatically deep breaths and chanting repetitive syllables, but the art of concentration meditation is the one which best parallels occlumency. In concentration meditation one learns to focus all of one's mind on one specific target, thereby quieting the rest of the mind. In muggle meditation this target can be something like a flickering candle or one's own natural breathing pattern; in occlumency the target is a set of images one wishes to portray to the person viewing one's mind. At first it will take all of your concentration to establish one set of images and maintain them during a legilimency attack, but as you get more experienced your most practiced shields will become second nature and you can create layers upon layers of shields, safeguarding your mind even when you are not expecting an attack. Similar to the physical defenses you are learning with Edgar, these mental defenses will have to be practiced regularly over time in order to build your mental muscle memory, so to speak, to make these shields an instinctive reflex instead of a conscious effort."

"To begin, today we will be working with the first level of shielding, which is thoughts about the current circumstances. Many occlumens attempt to create a blank entryway to their mind, this is the equivalent of the muggle meditative technique of clearing one's mind completely. While momentarily disconcerting to an attacking legilimens, this is also, in my opinion, an incredibly boastful and impudent technique. Do you know why, Miss Granger?"

She paused for a moment before speaking, "Is it because any legilimens will immediately know that the person is trying to block them? Because a blank mind, unless you're a Tibetan monk or something, is not a person's natural state of mind?"

 _Clever girl. This might not be as painful as I expected._ "Exactly. A blank mind cries out 'Look in here! This mind is hiding something!" whereas a primary shield that mirrors the immediate and present surroundings solely indicates an extreme focus on the situation at hand which, especially in a stressful situation like a legilimency attack, would not be too much of a surprise. Once you can construct a solid barrier using the present imagery and maintain it during a low to moderate strength attack, you may begin practicing shields using blank spaces, false imagery, or even memory palaces, but we'll get to all that later. First, I want you to shut your eyes."

Hermione reluctantly closed her eyes.

"Now without opening your eyes describe to me, in as much detail as you can remember, what this room looks like."

Hermione's mouth twisted in thought as she realized just how little she had managed to observe about the room. "There are two large metal lab tables each with...um...four stools on each side? No, the farthest table from the door has no stools, but instead has four cauldrons. One was gold, one was copper, one pewter, and...I'm not sure about the last one. The shelves are full of books, and we already spoke about the shield spell?" She opened one eye tentatively to see Professor Snape's expression. He nodded that she could open her eyes again.

"A good start. You had all the basics. This is all a normal person would observe about their environment. Actually, a normal person wouldn't have noted the cauldron types, so you get some points for that, but to construct a solid occlumency shield you need to look much deeper. What does the floor look like? Is its texture uniform or does it change from tile to tile? How many legs does each table have? How and where does the candlelight reflect off the metal surface of the tables? How many bookshelves are on each wall? The more details you can observe the more convincing your shields will be. To make your shield most believable, start at your focal point, the place you would most likely have noticed first. Observe as much fine detail as you possibly can and then work your way slowly out from there. Try this for a few minutes and then I will attempt to break into your mind."

She pushed aside her nerves at the idea of Professor Snape entering her mind and tried to memorize every detail about the bookcase straight ahead of her. By the time Professor Snape spoke again she had processed most of the opposite wall and had begun examining the far lab table with the cauldrons.

"Now I will try to penetrate your mind. When you feel my presence, it will feel like the strongest form of distraction you have ever experienced. The muggles say don't think of pink elephants. This will be like that but a thousand times more powerful. I will try to guide you away from the present to whatever memory or thought I wish to see. The reason you have a chance of stopping me is by channeling your magic into your focus on your present circumstances. Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded and braced herself for the attack, focusing all her mind and all her magic on the red, thick-spined book directly in front of her on the middle shelf. She immediately felt Professor Snape's presence in her mind the way one feels a draft in a previously-warm room. She could sense his mind, cool, precise, analytical, and innately foreign to her own thought. She was somewhat surprised at how thoroughly the indescribable feeling of his mind in her own completely encapsulated his personality. It wasn't a bad feeling, the way she could imagine that having something as dark as the Dark Lord's mind in your own must be, but there was still a fundamental feeling of wrongness to not be the one at the helm of her own mind.

After a flickering second of observation, she could tell what he had meant by the strongest form of distraction. She felt a pressing need to think about her last potions exam of the year. Not a fleeting desire, the way you want to dwell on a pleasant dream from which you have been awakened prematurely, but a pressing, almost physical need. She remembered after a second of panic to concentrate on her immediate surroundings. She went back to the red book and tried to notice all the little cracks on it's spine. But surely she could have done some more research to give some background knowledge on question twenty seven...no! The book. It was next to a much shorter blue book with golden pages…Her head whipped back as she couldn't help but relive her agony at not being able to tell if the mandrake roots were to be chopped or diced for a standard calming drought.

All the sudden the foreign presence was gone from her mind. She looked down to see her fingers clenched so hard on the edge of the table that her knuckles had turned white. She looked up at Professor Snape, wondering how long it had taken him to get to the point where he could lie without detection to the Dark Lord's face.

"That was just a small taste, but now you know what it feels like. You were actually quite successful at shielding my attempts, at least for a first try. The main concern you will have for this week is to learn to maintain your focus on your surroundings so that you can withstand an attack that is much stronger and longer in duration than the one you just experienced. It also gets more challenging the more sensitive or personal the information being sought. I tried for a fairly benign memory, but in the future I will try to reach your most embarrassing moments, your private thoughts, your deepest secrets. These are the most valuable targets for any legilimens and are, unfortunately, also the hardest to defend. Once you have mastered defending yourself against an attack you know is coming, we will begin practicing when you are not expecting it. After this becomes moderately tolerable, we will work on other levels of shielding. However, this skill cannot be crammed or hurried. It must develop slowly over time. Think of occlumency as a muscle to be strengthened, not as a piece of knowledge to be learned."

Hermione's brain was still fuzzy and tired from the attempt at defending itself. "Is resisting an attack over and again the only way to strengthen this muscle, so to speak? Surely I can't progress very quickly if I have to wait to practice until I am faced with a willing legilimens with time to spare…?" She couldn't imagine Professor Snape wanting to spend enough hours around her for her to truly master the task if that was what it took.

"Perish the thought, Miss Granger. You will be practicing quite a bit on your own. For now, begin by noticing the details of your surroundings. Observe a room, then close your eyes and try to recreate it in your mind in as much detail as possible. The better you get at observing, the more naturally you take in information about your surroundings, and the more instinctive this practice becomes, the quicker you will be able to call up these mental details in the face of an attack. For this week we will get you up to a basic proficiency, substituting occlumency training for our brewing time, but in subsequent phases a majority of the work will take place in your head. I will only serve as a marker of your progress."

He could see the wheels turning in her head, "and I wouldn't feel the need to say this to most students, but I feel you are an exception: please do not seek out other legilimens with whom you can practice. Very few on the side of the light possess this skill and none on the side of the dark would be capable of using it without malice. Also, in a worst case scenario we would be best served by the Dark Lord remaining unaware that anyone is capable of resisting mental intrusion. Do you understand?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Do you have any questions that cannot wait until tomorrow?"

She shook her head. Usually she would have jumped at the opportunity to ask Professor Snape questions without fear of detention or point loss, but she felt that her brain might begin to emit physical smoke if she tried to take in any more information.

"A speechless Hermione Granger. I guess miracles do happen. Now, I have to attend to some other business. If you can successfully locate the kitchen, this house is home to several irritatingly-accommodating house elves who I am sure would be overjoyed to make you a meal of your choosing. After you have eaten feel free to make use of your room. It is yours for the duration of the summer and you are welcome leave any possessions you wish in it, but do put a locking spell on the door as there are several dozen people who come in and out of the house on a regular basis."

She saw a mischievous glint flicker across his face, or at least she thought she did. "However long you spend in your room, you should be in the dining room to meet Moody at promptly 2 o'clock."

 _Wow, he really is getting a kick out of this time turner._

"Tomorrow morning my associate will collect you from your house at 7am to take you to train with Edgar and then back here after. I will meet you at 11am in the lab for more occlumency practice. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent," he went to leave but paused at the doorway as if he was unsure about something. Without turning around, he surprised her when he spoke,"good work today, Miss Granger."

Body and brain both exhausted, she hadn't the self control to keep herself from gawking after him with an unstifled grin on her face. One did not often receive words of praise from Professor Snape. Actually, if one was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor know-it-all and friend of Harry Potter, one never received words of praise from Professor Snape.

She decided, as she made her way to find the kitchen, that she could definitely get used to it.


	9. 9: The Real Moody

**And another week has passed! Will somebody tell the calendar to quit doing that?**

 **On a different note, thank you for all the reviews/follows. I love hearing what you guys think and, whenever possible, I try to worm things you mention/request into later chapters of the story. This is a fairly short one, but they get progressively longer as the story continues, so bear with me.**

* * *

After eating what could only be described as a 'Ron Weasley sized' portion of the food offered by the house elves, Hermione had actually spent far more time in her room than expected. First she pulled out memories of the morning with Edgar as well as her occlumency lesson with Professor Snape. Next, she opened the fresh notebook she had brought just in case the opportunity presented itself and began copying down as much as she could remember from both sessions, along with her thoughts, questions, points to research further, and to do items.

She awoke with a start, notebook pages stuck to her cheek, in the familiar position of having fallen asleep on her notebook. Eyeing the bed longingly, she remembered the look on Professor Snape's face as he suggested she 'take as long as she needed'. _I guess it isn't smart to burn myself out the way I did third year. If time really is no object…_ she sidled up to the bed, testing the firmness of the mattress with one hand. _Screw it._ She hopped in bed far quicker than her aching muscles should have allowed, set a locking charm on the door, and slipped back into blissful unconsciousness.

She awoke with a smile and a blissful stretch. Performing a quick tempus charm, she realized that she had slept for an unprecedented two hours. _I guess physical exercise is just as tiring as they say it is._ She tried to shake the sleepy off, but decided another shower might be necessary.

Whatever vestiges of sleep the shower didn't rinse away were properly erased by the tea the house elves had left on her desk while she was in the shower. The one elf she had seen in the kitchen at lunch had been an immensely unpleasant fellow by the name of Kreature and, aside from when he was taking her order or giving her her food, he spent most of the time muttering bitterly about how mudbloods were defaming the house of his mistress or something equally flattering. Given his general attitude, she took a wild guess that this tea was probably not from him.

Putting the matter on her list of mysteries to solve, she finished the rest of the tea while donning a fresh set of clothes from the bag Professor Snape had gotten her and walked outside her door before turning back to 1:55pm so she could be early to meet Professor Moody downstairs.

After two hours taking rapid fire notes she decided that while Barty Crouch Jr. was a certain psychopath, he had saved them all from a world of pain. The actual Moody was less twitchy and sinister than his polyjuiced counterpart, but no less maniacal or foreboding. She expected him to jump right into the practical side of defending against the dark arts, but instead was hustled into a room that had a magical blackboard on one wall and accosted with a thorough lecture that touched most of what she knew to be on the fifth, sixth, and seventh year defense against the dark arts curricula as if she should already know it.

Most of the material he used his wand to shoot up on the board was, she was fairly certain, from the auror training program and a portion of it, she was willing to wager was too dark for the ministry to sanction teaching even the aurors. This also was probably a good outcome of the real Moody not having taught impressionable children. It seemed his line for where 'defense against' ended and 'dark arts' began was much fuzzier than she could imagine Professor Dumbledore allowing in the classroom. _Malfoy and Harry's duels would have landed them in the hospital wing if they'd had this knowledge!_

Horror at the darker bits aside, Moody threw more knowledge at her in one afternoon than she felt her previous four years of defense classes combined. She had one note taking quill keeping a verbatim dictation of the session on one side, a reference quill running on the other side, and was frantically jotting down notes by hand as well. From the rate he was throwing material at her she did begin to wonder just how rational his expectations were of her note taking ability, not to mention the idea of actually internalizing that quantity of material.

She also had to fight the urge to remind him she was only entering the fifth year, as he kept referencing NEWT-level material with the words 'as you already know'. However, she loved a challenge and she had her trusty time turner on her side, so she was nervous about learning all the knowledge being dumped in her lap, but those nerves had yet to progress to actual panic, at least not yet.

By the time seven o'clock rolled around (she could tell by the chiming of the magical grandfather clock in the hallway) she realized she had been taking notes constantly for five hours now. More impressively, Moody had been speaking nonstop and pacing about the room without sitting down or stopping to take a sip of water. Something in the back of her mind was thinking about a documentary she had once watched on American filibusters, but a larger portion of her brain was calculating her estimate for when her right hand would finally be overcome by writer's cramp.

Then, at exactly seven thirty, Moody stopped in the middle of a paragraph about the way unforgivable curses interacted with different types of shield charms and, with a slight grumble, ended a completely unrelated sentence with, "...and that will be all for tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, Granger."

And without another word or bothering to erase the board, he limped out of the room and down the hallway. Hermione finished her notes on the topic, performed the spell to combine all three sets of notes (those from her dictation quill, her reference finder quill, and her own handwritten notes) together in chronological order on one morbidly long parchment.

She knew her brain was mush for the moment, so she headed into the kitchen to see if she could rustle herself up a meal of some kind before heading to her room to begin combing through her notes. Her curiosity about the elves of Grimmauld Place was not assuaged as she walked in to find a piping hot, perfectly prepared meal waiting for her. She felt briefly awkward about assuming it was for her, but as she had seen no one else in the safe house the entire time she had been there, she couldn't really imagine it being for anyone else. She tried to eat at a ladylike pace, but with some difficulty due to the length of time since she had last eaten and the deliciousness of the food. While she ate she tried to practice what Professor Snape had been doing with her in her occlumency lesson. She tried to notice the texture of the table, how many spoons were hanging on the wall, and which way the different plates on the drying rack were facing. As she went she started to find patterns in her recall. It was harder for her to remember numbers of things (how many spoons, how many plates, etc.) but she could easily remember colors or locations of things. She made a mental note to ask Professor Snape about this when they practiced tomorrow.

After she had finished eating she took yet another shower. Partially because there was no muggle shower on earth that could compare to the relaxing feeling of even the most rundown magical shower, but mainly because she had discovered over the years that she did some of her best thinking in the shower. Her mother frequently joked that her hair was only that bushy because she lost track of time and shampooed multiple times per shower. It was only half a joke. However, she had recently been making a more concerted effort not to lose track of time until she was in the conditioning phase of the shower, which had greatly decreased the sheer volume of her hair.

While she basked under the hot water, she began to formulate a plan. She had now experienced each of the phases of a day, meaning she could officially gauge what her summer schedule would be like. If her "official" day began with her sessions with Edgar, she knew she would need a rest before she was any good for occlumency or brewing with Professor Snape right afterwards. Similarly, she knew that she would need an equal time to that spent brewing to go over the potions they had made (or the occlumency they had practiced). Finally, she would need at least the same amount of time she spent with Moody (and realistically quite a bit more) to process the sheer volume of the information he threw at her. This meant that for every 12 hour day she spent at Grimmauld place she would need to spend each hour at least twice.

She had learned from her third year that she needed to remember to increment her sleep time in proportion to the increase in her daytime hours, which meant that she would probably be doubling up on her nights at Grimmauld place as well as her days. At home she had already looped into a similar pattern of doubling up her "public Hermione" that interacted with her parents and the outside world and her "private Hermione" who stayed in her room and tried not to attract attention. By doubling up this way at home it meant that, in between her days at Grimmauld place, she could spend one full day studying her course material for potions (as Professor Snape had informed her that she would be completing three years of potions work in one summer in order to be on track to begin her Master-level apprentice program in the fall) and one day studying the other defense/occlumency/supplementary material she would be picking up from Professor Moody and whatever other order members Professor Snape had in mind for her to meet with during her lunch hours.

Finally, she had decided ten minutes into her panting, sweating, punching, gasping, dying session with Edgar that her stamina would need some serious work. She figured the quickest way to improve on this would be to start each "public Hermione" morning with a run outside and each "private Hermione" morning with calisthenics in her room. Edgar had given her enough exercises she knew that, as long as she didn't make enough noise to alert her parents to her second self's presence, she could make a decent enough workout on her own to begin building her stamina. She then noticed her fingers had become unacceptably pruny and the steam from her shower had filled not only the shower stall but the entirety of the bathroom, so she deemed that she had probably had enough 'thinking time' for now.

As she toweled off she reflected on the fact that, if she ran her schedule the way she had planned it out, she would be a full year older in the three month's time before school began again in the fall. _I guess people are going to think I had one hell of a growth spurt_ , she mused. Feeling refreshed and ready to tackle her notes from that afternoon's session with Moody, she left the bathroom with a much lighter step. A plan always made Hermione feel more put together and having a supervisor who seemed not to give two shrivelfigs about how badly she abused her time turner made her feel excitingly rebellious. She giggled slightly to herself as she walked down the hall thinking of Harry or Ron's faces if they heard her use the word 'rebellious' to describe the act of cramming four days worth of studying into a 24 hour period.


	10. 10: Some Semblance of a Normal Routine

**Hello, dear readers. Merry almost Christmas (for those of you who partake) and greetings to the rest of you from Timothy the Non-Denominational Holiday Shrub (inside joke). The chapters seem to be getting a tad longer as the story picks up steam. I think we're finally over the expository hump, so to speak.**

 **This one has my (hopefully last) OC, but I couldn't help myself. Inspired by Jane from _When a Lioness Fights_ and Rink from _Pet Project_ (two of my absolute favorite HGSS stories, if you haven't read them) I really felt that this story needed some house elf. So I hope you'll permit me this one more extra character...**

* * *

The next day, or 36 hours later in Hermione time, she waited anxiously in her living room, dressed and ready for another beating ...erm… training session with Edgar. Professor Snape had said that he would send one of his colleagues to come and get her and that she should wait for him (or her, come to think of it) inside her house. At first she thought that by 'colleague' he meant another professor or order member, but if that were the case wouldn't he have told her whom it was? Then, after meeting Edgar, her expectations for being able to predict whom Professor Snape would enlist in order to help her training were completely shattered. She jumped almost out of her skin when she heard a loud _pop_ directly behind her.

She whirled around to see what had to be the strangest looking house elf she had ever seen. She had seen Dobby in his raggedy pillow case before being freed and in his poorly assembled outfits afterwards. She had seen Winky and the Hogwarts elves in their crisp uniforms. What she was not prepared for was an elf dressed in a crisp pair of Muggle dress pants, a plaid, green button down Oxford, and a tiny pair of leather, Muggle loafers. Her astonishment must have been visible on her face because the little elf began to chortle. Not the high pitched laugh she was used to hearing from house elves, but a quasi-human laugh that seemed impossible to be coming from a creature of his size. He quickly swallowed the laugh and further surprised her by stepping assuredly up to her and extending his right hand, which she took out of muscle memory, still astonished at the sight before her.

"Mistress of S.P.E.W, I've heard much about you, but it's good to finally put a face to the name. My name is Frick."

She spoke slowly, each sentence emerging with the intonation of a question in her lingering surprise. "Please call me Hermione. It's a pleasure to meet you. Frick?" The little creature laughed again and stepped back, placing its hands in its pockets in an alarming imitation of a professor at a Muggle university.

"I used to have a different name, but when I went to introduce myself to the Professor I made the unfortunate mistake of popping in behind him when he was not expecting it. He let loose a fairly creative storm of expletives that included the question 'where the frick did you come from". I saw my chance and adopted the moniker. I think my presence frustrated him to no end in the first few months there, so calling the name was quite cathartic for him. Now it's more of an inside joke."

Hermione couldn't help herself from goggling at the little manlike creature before her. When he let out another low chuckle she finally remembered her manners and shut her previously-open mouth.

"Sorry, it's just that you're… well, you're quite different from all the other house elves I've met." This occasioned another noise of amusement.

"A blessing and a curse I'm afraid. I've never quite taken to broken English or quivering before a master. Even when I was small I couldn't understand why house elves hid their powers and intelligence behind menial tasks and poor grammar. This opinion was obviously not welcomed by my masters and I was presented with clothes as soon as I was old enough for it not to be "inhumane", whatever that means. However, the Professor was an acquaintance of my former masters. When I stumbled upon him in the street he asked about my situation and offered me a position. Other than the one incident that earned me my new moniker we get on well enough. I clean, cook, and leave him to his business without interfering and mastering around everywhere like the other elves do. In turn he provides lodging, food, a monthly wage, and access to his library."

He paused as if to finish, but added after a beat, "now my duties include ferrying around his new protégé, apparently. Shall we get going?"

Head swarming with so many follow up questions it actually rendered her temporarily speechless. She grabbed hold of the elf's proffered arm and the two were gone with a crack.

* * *

Over the next few weeks Hermione slowly got used to her routine, as far from a normal summer schedule as it was.

She had decided she could definitely get used to this level of freedom in the usage of her time turner. She would double back on her time at home as well as at Grimmauld place, which gave her three full days of research and study for each one she spent learning.

Professor Snape had continued working with her occlumency skills until she could ward off any casual attempts at legilimancy she might encounter. The basic shields she now had in place all the time would protect her from those like Dumbledore who scanned the surface thoughts of their conversation partners on a regular basis almost as a force of habit, but wouldn't stand to a more intense attack. He gave her further reading on the subject of how to construct the next levels of her mental barriers and they transitioned to going over potions instead of their daily occlumency sessions.

It was strange to learn potions from Professor Snape outside the classroom. Because he only had one student, and a well-behaved, highly-motivated one at that, he didn't have to worry about discipline or keeping his students from accidentally blowing up their cauldrons. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised that their sessions almost felt like a discussion. His speech was obviously directed to her, so she was more welcome to ask questions, to which he could respond in more detail and at a higher level than the other students in a typical potions class would have been able to understand. Occasionally she would accidentally cross one of his invisible boundaries if she asked a question that was too off topic or too personal, in which case he snapped back to his scowling potion master persona faster than a snapping rubber band, but overall she was pleased with the way their relationship was developing more into that of an apprentice and a master, rather than just a random student and teacher pair.

Her sessions with Moody were, as she feared, as knowledge intensive as the first. She left each evening with a pounding headache, a robust case of writer's cramp, and a substantially heavy roll of notes to review. After two weeks of this, however, she found that patterns were beginning to emerge in what they were covering. Moody somehow managed to weave the historical knowledge of dark wizards throughout history and the psychological knowledge of the human psyche into the endless array of curses, spells, and hexes and defensive strategies she had spent hours and hours memorizing by wandlight, in a way that was beginning to make sense.

While she had always looked at defense against the dark arts as a specified version of charms class, Moody taught it more like a magical version of an in depth military strategy class. While defense had never been her forte before, she found herself thoroughly enjoying the psychological component of learning about your enemies, getting inside their heads, and adjusting your defensive strategies accordingly. It was almost a month before she even took out her wand to cast a spell in Moody's presence, but she was so thoroughly hooked she found she didn't even mind.

She was also quite pleased with the array of lunch guests Professor Snape had arranged for her. Once or twice a week she ate with Madam Pomfrey, who knew more about healing than most of the healers in St. Mungo's combined. During the first five minutes of their first lunch the no nonsense woman informed her that, "with those catastrophe magnet friends of yours, it's about time you learned the basics of healing." From this moment on she took it as her personal mission to teach Hermione what, we're it to be a class, the younger which thought would surely be named 'how to prevent Harry and Ron from getting themselves killed and all the ways they might try to do so'. They covered everything from burn salves, broken bones, dislocated joints, how to mend every type of wound from scratches to gashes, and a few very unpleasant sessions on dealing with the outcomes of dark curses including (but not limited to) the cruciatus. From their sessions she truly wondered what troubles Madam Pomfrey expected Harry and Ron to encounter, but she kept this opinion to herself as she was grateful for the expert teaching she was receiving.

Another regular lunch date was Professor McGonagall, with whom she ate once a week to discuss defensive applications for Transfiguration and to learn how to apparate because, as Professor Snape took a certain amusement in declaring, Frick did have better things to do with his time than ferry her from place to place.

By the second day she had gotten over her sprocklose at Frick's laid-back, professorial vibe and had met him with a series of questions locked and loaded. He good-naturedly talked about his thoughts on the state of elvish affairs and the problems he saw with the direction she had taken with SPEW. Although he believed that the change had to be made first in the minds of the house elves themselves, he gave her great credit for at least making an attempt. She also found out that it had been he who brought her the mystery tea the first night in Grimmauld Place.

"Severus mentioned that you had your first session with Professor Moody that night. I figured tea was the least I could do," he had said knowingly, standing on tip toes to pat her on the arm. From what she could discern, as Professor Snape's official apprentice, Frick and she were informally connected somehow, as the elf seemed to have a stake in maintaining her well-being. She found that, without the mastering, quivering, and self-flagellation of the 'typical' house elf she rather enjoyed Frick's company. The feeling appeared to be mutual as they began having longer and more passionate discussions-turned-debates about a wide variety of topics each time he arrived to transport her somewhere. He had apparently taken Professor Snape up on his offer for access to his library, because the little elf was better read than Harry and Ron put together.

Finally, it was, much to her surprise, her sessions with Edgar which had become one of the highlights of her 48-hour daily cycle. The first week was rough from a stamina perspective, but once regular training and her additional runs and workouts began to take effect she found it quite cathartic to apply the memorization and route learning techniques she was so used to implementing in the academic realm in a physical pursuit. She doubted she would ever tell this to Harry and Ron for fear they would take up their long-abandoned attempts to make her like quiddich, but for now she was having a grand time enjoying a sport for the first time ever.

In the first few sessions they had covered all the basic techniques for punches, kicks, blocks, and other main strikes. A few sessions later Edgar commented on how impressively fast she had been able to begin committing these techniques to muscle memory. She felt bad about not disabusing him of the notion of her heightened athletic capabilities, but she couldn't well tell him that she spent 120 minutes to the hour going over their sessions a second and third time between each of her visits so she just blushed and mumbled something about being a quick study.

After they mastered the basic techniques, he began putting her through real life scenarios, approaching her in every possible variety of attack and working each situation over and over until she had a perfect response for every possible permutation of the way things could play out. As time went by, she progressed not only in utilizing the correct techniques but in using them more instinctively in response to different types of attacks.

After they had worked over a few possible situations verbally, he instructed her to treat him as she would a real opponent. She looked as if she would protest, but he just grumbled at her, "I won't break, Missy. You just worry about yourself." When Edgar came at her she worried for a split second about hitting a man of his age, but her thoughts were interrupted by a quick tackle and an even quicker sweep to her legs that effectively ended her thought process when her lungs emptied as a result of a sudden collision with the barroom floor. She slowly peeled herself off the floor to a chorus of what sounded like amused 'I told you so's from the barkeep, who had not even broken a sweat.

"You ready to try it for real then, are you?"

It was astounding at how quickly the man could move despite his advanced years. He had hobbled around while she was training by herself, yet now that he was playing her assailant in a combat scenario he was as quick as a jack rabbit, darting at her with the agility of a man half his age. Still picking peanut shells out of her hair, she sent him her best impression of Professor Snape's sternest glare, occasioning a hearty laugh from the old man.

"I see you've been spending too much time with our dear Severus. A valid attempt, Missy, but you've years to go before you master that look."

She paused for a second before deciding to test her luck. Part of what intrigued her so much about Edgar was the fact that he had known her irascible mentor back when he was her age. Something about a young Snape severely piqued her curiosity. Since the first day Edgar hadn't mentioned Professor Snape again, so she decided to run with this opportunity.

"You mean he wasn't always… like that?" She gestured with her hands, trying to get the point across without further description.

"Like he's perpetually in the midst of dental surgery? No, that is a fairly recent development. When Severus was a boy he was always too smart for his own good. It got him in trouble with the neighborhood kids when he was here, and again with the kids at that boarding school when he went away. He always stood his ground, even when the odds or the numbers were stacked against him. He learned to fight his enemies off, but he never listened to me when I told him it was much easier not to make enemies in the first place. Sure, he started out a misfit kid getting bullied something terrible, but that surly exterior of his took years and years to build. I thought things would get better for him when he graduated from school and could surround himself with his intellectual equals, but for some reason it just got worse. From the day he graduated he just seemed to be surrounded by… darkness."

That must have been when he joined the death eaters. It's amazing how he hit the nail on the head without even knowing half of the story.

"it wasn't until probably around the time you were born that this whole scowling thing he has going began. One day he came in here utterly destroyed. I couldn't get a word out of him about what had happened, but I could see it in his eyes. He was like a hollow man. The outside was burning in rage, and sadness, and fear, but for the first time that scared little boy inside was nowhere to be found. I tried to talk him out of the woods, so to speak, and he calmed down alright, but he was never really the same after that. Never did get it out of him what happened, but that's Severus for you. One mystery after another."

He paused and, for a brief moment, looked just a little bit sad, then seemed to shake himself off and was back to his normal gruff exterior.

"So are you going to actually try this time?"

She made it only a few seconds more before she was flat on her back again, but this time she did not hold back.


	11. 11: Albus Sodding Dumbledore

**A happy New Year's Eve to you all! I'm posting this because I promised you one a week and I'm going to try to stick to it, but I've officially caught up with my pre-written chapters so it makes me quite nervous. If you wanted to *cough cough* leave me some motivation in the form of reviews, it might help my muse find her shoes and get out the door...**

 **And with that, here we go...**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Albus Percival Bloody Wulfric Brian Sodding Dumbledore**

The summer progressed quietly in a haze of books, research, sore muscles, and a fair amount more time turner abuse than she expected. Her baseline schedule was giving her about four Hermione days to every chronological day, but she found herself giving herself little 'bonus flips' in which she would take a study break to take a nap or go for a run but not want to officially waste time to do so. Given her schedule this meant she had to choose between the need for caution and secrecy and the dangers of seeing yourself when you are time traveling.

On the third week of summer she officially gave up the ghost on avoiding herself, doubled down on the locking charms on her bedroom door, and embraced the weirdness. It soon after became a common occurrence to have one Hermione reading on her chair, one Hermione going over her notes at the desk, and one Hermione napping on her bed or showering in the adjoining bathroom. On several occasions she even went as far as attempting to spar with herself, but some things were too strange even for the wizarding world.

The first time Phineas came to visit his picture frame in her room to find three Hermiones all in the same place she could sworn she saw a hint of amusement that even the most consummate of Slytherins didn't quite manage to hide.

"Enjoying yourselves, are you? No thought for disrupting the entire bloody time-space continuum so long as you get your reading done, eh?"

Much to his annoyance, all three Hermiones chorused back a cheerful and simultaneous, "not really, nope" and continued working with identical smirks on their faces. The two later Hermiones were congratulating themselves on their perfect timing while the first was busy wondering if this was what Fred and George felt like all the time. If it was, she felt she must have missed out on quite a bit of fun by not having a twin.

Once his mock annoyance had worn off, however, Hermione shortly learned that Phineas was to the mental and verbal arts as Edgar was to the physical arts. During one of the first conversations they had, they were in the middle of a discussion on pureblood views when Phineas had a brief outburst in which he told her to "stop being a bloody Gryffindor and think!" Instead of slamming his frame face down the way he half expected her to do, she tilted her head in apparent thought.

"You sound like Professor Snape," she mused calmly and pensively.

"That's because he too knows better than anyone the personality deficits of those selected to the great and noble house of Gryffindor," he replied with a truly Snape-worthy level of sarcasm.

"We do _not_ have personality deficits, Phineas!" She tried to keep her tone level as she knew he was baiting her, but it was not without difficulty.

"I'd bet my pretty, golden frame you were a hatstall, so you may be less incapacitated than most, but just look at the moronic imbeciles you call friends. I bet it annoys you too."

"They don't annoy me because they're Gryffindors! They occasionally annoy me because they act before thinking, or say whatever comes to mind without thinking it through, and they wouldn't know a rule or a consequence if it bit them on the…"

She stopped mid-sentence as Phineas' smug grin finally caught up to her. She shut her mouth with a snap and let her expression fall into one of crestfallen submission.

"Phineas, if you don't wipe that grin off your face, good point or not, I will commission a painting of the fluffiest cat ever to come shed over all of your robes."

The grin immediately transformed to a feigned air of haughty outrage and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

"So there are some downsides to being a Gryffindor. I'm sure there are just as many downsides for each of the other houses."

"Of course there are, girl! Think to those psychology books you're always mumbling at. It's heuristics. People think in absolute terms, using categories to sort, if you will, people into groups because if we had to form an opinion on each individual person on their own merits alone our heads would explode or we'd never get anything else done. But grouping people into "good" and "bad" groups never really pans out. For each quality there is a benefit and a detriment."

"Now you really sound like Professor Snape. He told me to think of people's strengths and weaknesses, assets and liabilities. I didn't really know how to proceed though."

"Think of it this way. Qualities are neither good nor bad. Each quality a person has is useful in some regards and harmful in others. Take your young Mister Potter. He is incredibly brave in the face of danger. That's a quality, neither good nor bad. The benefits are obvious, but can you name some of the detriments?"

Hermione shifted subtly in her chair, clearly uncomfortable with yet intrigued by this line of thinking, "Because he's brave he's more likely to act before thinking or to ignore possible risks. He is also more prone to try to handle things by himself when he should ask for help or wait for some better trained to handle a situation."

She paused before continuing, "so I can come to terms with the idea that each characteristic of each house has costs and benefits, but that doesn't explain why you and Professor Snape always pick out the flaws in just the Gryffindors."

"Use that brain of yours, girl. What does Professor Snape do for a living. And don't say that he teaches potions."

"He's the head of Slytherin house…" Phineas inclined his head, insinuating that she was missing the obvious, and then the boom dropped, "and he's a Death Eater, or at least he needs people to think he is." There was another long pause while Hermione chewed on her thoughts and Phineas looked on smugly.

"How much of his day to day behavior is an act?"

Phineas nodded his head slightly, "that is the question, girl. And the answer is that I don't think even he knows sometimes. The best way to see a Slytherin's true motives and priorities is to watch them with no sound. Disregard a Slytherin's words and their actions will show you where their true interests lie."

Hermione took a second to ponder this. Professor Snape was always the first to a good, scathing insult, but all his actions had shown were that he always protected Harry, and by extension her, even to the detriment of his own safety, he had never punished them unjustly unless the consequences ended up making them learn more, and he reported to Dumbledore about the dealings of Voldemort's inner circle at great risk to himself with no acknowledgement or seeming reward. Finally, he had agreed to mentor her and take her on as an apprentice despite a history of, if she was being honest with herself, her being an over-eager pain in the arse.

"Holy shite, he's a bloody saint," she said matter of factly.

If Phineas had a glass of water to drink in his portrait he would definitely have spit it all over the inside of the frame, "Don't let him catch you saying that, girl." Phineas continued to chuckle.

"If you figure that one out you'll truly have earned your honorary Slytherin status, but he's a very private man and he's got a nasty temper on him, so it's your funeral if you go asking."

He gave her a decisive nod to communicate that the conversation was over and went back to debating the inner workings of purebred society as if he hadn't just issued an irresistible challenge to a consummate know-it-all.

* * *

A few days later Hermione came into the potions laboratory at Grimmauld place, on the arm of an ever-gallant Frick, freshly showered, and mostly recovered from her daily beating with Edgar. However, much to her surprise Professor Snape was nowhere to be found. Frick simply shrugged and was about to leave when he stopped and surprised Hermione with a small smile.

"Happy birthday, Miss. I feel an official welcome to the wizarding world is in order."

And with that and a smirk, leaving her wondering at house elves knew these things, Frick popped back to wherever house elves go. _How did he know I turned 17 this morning?_ Hermione wasn't due to 'officially' turn 17 until the 19th of September, but she knew from her calculations that she had already reached 17 official years of age as of 8:09am. Being raised in the muggle world, she had always considered 18 to be the birthday at which one reaches the official age of majority, but she had learned from Harry and Ron (and later the books on wizarding customs bestowed upon her by Professor Snape) that it was not only 17 in the wizarding world, but that it was a much bigger deal to 'officially' transition to an 'adult wizard' than it was to turn into an 'adult muggle'. She had been looking forward to seeing exactly what this entailed on the 19th, but this interaction with Frick made her think that maybe at least part of the magical world would realize she was an adult before then.

Still finding no Professor Snape, she grabbed a book and installed herself in one of the chairs in the corner of the room. She was so absorbed in the book that she didn't budge when Professor Snape began coming down the stairs, but when he got within hearing distance she was greeted with a litany of phrases that would have made even the swarthiest of sailors blush in a tirade that, as far as she could tell, was directed at "Albus Percival Bloody Wulfric Brian Sodding Dumbledore". When she heard this she couldn't quite stifle her giggle and had to quickly duck as Professor Snape whipped around at top speed and singed the wall behind where she was sitting with something that definitely wasn't a stunning spell.

His eyes widened slightly as he realized who she was and what he had done, but his Slytherin calm facial expressions betrayed nothing. However, when she casually raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him he released a deep breath, though no tension went out of his body.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. I was kept later than I thought by the headmaster and I did not immediately see you there."

Trying to keep her courage by reminding herself of her conversations with Phineas, she squared her shoulders and asked, "Care to talk about it, sir?"

"With you? Don't flatter yourself, Miss Granger. It doesn't concern you."

Consciously making an effort not to rise to his bait and get offended, she schooled her voice into the closest thing to nonchalance she could find and tried again.

"Well I have a hard time imagining that _Albus Sodding Dumbledore_ could have gotten you riled up enough not to notice my presence unless it had to do with _Harry Bloody Potter_ , so it probably does actually concern me."

This time when he released the breath she hadn't realized he was holding she could almost see the tension ripple out of his body. He looked at her momentarily then sat down at a stool opposite where she was sitting.

"Part of your training is going to be a crash course in, for lack of a better word, Potter management. He doesn't have a history of listening to authority and there will be times when it is crucial for our side to have some way to control him. Now don't get your knickers in a bunch," he added hastily after seeing her face contort in what was clearly going to be a vehement defense of her friend, "I don't mean you will have to manipulate him, but there will come a time when we will need someone he will actually listen to, and you have a better shot than anyone else."

"What does this have to do with Dumbledore, sir?"

"I'm getting to that. I know Phineas has been trying to teach you how to think outside of the box, and I know I assigned you a fair number of psychology books, so you tell me. Albus believes that, due to a number of factors, there is a mental connection between Mister Potter and the Dark Lord. He believes that, if he distances himself from Mister Potter it will make the Dark Lord less likely to explore that connection because if Potter has no information nothing can be gained from accessing his mind. What do you believe will be the outcome of this course of action?"

She could suddenly understand his initial tirade much better. "That would be an utter disaster! Harry thinks of Dumbledore as a mentor and if Dumbledore pulls away and starts depriving Harry of information it would be really bad. Harry will put himself in all manner of dangerous situations trying to figure out what's going on. How can Dumbledore do something so stupid!" She ended with a bang a few seconds before her brain had a chance to catch up with what she was saying. Immediately embarrassed, she quickly added a "respectfully speaking?" to the end of her monologue with a sheepish, questioning smile.

It was Professor Snape's turn to cock an eyebrow at her. She started by looking embarrassed, but surprised him when her look transformed into one that clearly stated, 'yeah, but I was right, so…' and he let just enough of a smile out to let her know that she did hit the nail, albeit bluntly, right on the proverbial head.

"I wouldn't have phrased it exactly that way, but I cannot argue with your conclusions. What, if you were in my place, would you do with the situation then?" He asked in a careful and measured voice that led Hermione to consider what was happening instead of diving in with an immediate answer. He continued, "do not neglect the fact that I am under strict orders from the headmaster to keep Potter from the truth and to instruct you and the Weasley boy to communicate with him as little as possible as well."

Hermione was on the cusp of blurting out an answer when a metaphorical lightbulb illuminated somewhere above her not-nearly-as-bushy-as-they-once-were curls. She leaned back slightly in her chair and spoke with a small, slightly-pleased smile, "Well, sir, it would seem that you have already answered that question."

She saw a twitch in the corners of his mouth that she was sure indicated she had come to the correct conclusion, "continue, Miss Granger".

"Well, I can only assume that you knew before you told me what my reaction would be, and I'm guessing you knew my gut instinct would be to run and tell Harry exactly what Dumbledore was hiding from him, which leads me to believe you wanted to be able to tell Dumbledore you adhered to his orders without actually suffering the consequences of heeding his actual goal in the slightest."

The twitch in the corners of Professor Snape's mouth turned into an actual, honest-to-Merlin, full-fledged smile. She couldn't help but beam back, partially because she had picked up on what he had been doing and made the correct diagnosis (a feat for which she couldn't help but be proud), but more because when Professor Snape smiled this genuine smile, not the smirk or the joy-in-others'-pain smile she had seen before, it felt as though he literally lit up the room. She found herself grinning back without even giving herself permission to do so.

"Very good, Miss Granger. We might just make a Slytherin of you yet."

* * *

Back in his rooms after having another potions session with Miss Granger, Severus Snape was more at war with himself than he generally enjoyed being. Since she first showed up in his rooms the night of the Dark Lord's rebirth he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something had changed about Miss Granger. It wasn't anything major, tangible or too noticeable. Her hair had somehow transformed from the bushy mess it had been in her youngers to a mass of curls that, if his very limited knowledge of today's fashion was to be trusted, would be quite desirable to most women. Her body, not that he was looking at her that way, had transformed from that of a little girl to that of a young woman, and quite a fit young woman since Edgar had gotten his hands on her. Her mind was agile as ever, but none of that was what he had been struggling with.

In his interactions with her since he agreed to take her on as an apprentice, she just seemed to possess this intangible "it" factor that made her seem more of a colleague than a student. She was still insufferably Gryffendor a higher percentage of the time than he liked, but he found himself relating to her more the way he related to Minerva or Filius than he would an actual student. It was quite vexing as he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"Well I haven't seen that look in quite some time, Severus. I was wondering when you'd notice."

Only his years of training as a spy kept him from whirling around and revealing just how startled he had been, "Frick! I believe we had the discussion about not popping into my blind spot? Must we go over it again?"

He slowly turned to see Frick's face, just a tad too smug for his liking.

"Oh please do wipe that smile off your face before it gets stuck that way. And what, pray tell, do you think you were waiting for me to notice?"

"That look is always about a woman, Severus. And that is precisely what the young girl has turned into. Today, as a matter of fact, though mentally we both know she's been there for some time now." The little elf wandered towards his desk, taking one hand out of his trouser pocket to absentmindedly straighten the piles of parchment lying all over it, obviously waiting for Severus to respond.

"She is not… how do you know...oh sod it all, you're a bloody house elf of course you know everything. I forgot." Said with every ounce of sarcasm normally reserved for his students, but Frick just cocked an eyebrow in the manner Severus usually did and waited with an amused smile on his face.

"So it happened today?"

A small nod that caused just the tips of Frick's long ears to wiggle back and forth.

"Well that is actually a small consolation. I'd been going crazy trying to figure out what had made her seem older than her age."

A small chuckle emanated from the little elf who had now moved on to straightening the books on the desk, "she has aged faster than she would have without that little device of hers, but that's not what makes her seem older than her age. You asked her, that first night, you asked her to make a choice. After all your experience with dunderheads who don't listen to you I bet you weren't expecting it, but she actually made it. That's what's making her seem like an adult. She chose to be one, so he is. And as of this morning it's official on paper as well."

And with that, the little elf popped out for the second time that day leaving the occupant of the room struggling to process what had been said. After a few seconds of silence, Severus walked over to his desk, picked something out of the bottom drawer, and began to write on a piece of parchment.

* * *

Hermione walked back to her room after another mind-melting session with Professor Moody. After the first few weeks of lecturing only he had switched to a compound format in which he would intersperse his lectures not only with little verbal quizzes to see how much she had internalized of what he had been teaching, but also with demands that she perform certain defensive spells and, more recently, unwarned jinxes and hexes directed at her, often without ceasing the lecture to perform them. She had a hard time convincing Harry and Ron to take notes as it was, she shuttered to think of their reactions were they ever to be in a class where they had to have a shield spell ready at all times, even while taking said notes.

She stretched her body as she walked down the long hallway to her room, already looking forward to the long, hot shower she used as a reward for making it through one of her sessions with Moody. As she opened her door her eye was immediately drawn to her bed, upon which a small blue box was sitting next to a role of parchment. She quickly performed a check of all her wards and, finding none of them had been breached, performed a series of dark object detection spells on both items. Moody had taught her well. When she had exhausted all the spells and tests she could think of, she proceeded to pick up the roll of parchment. She felt a tingle of the same magic she had become used to trying to block in her occlumency sessions and immediately knew that the objects were from Professor Snape. With a tingle of excitement, she opened the parchment and began to read.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _It has been brought to my attention that today you achieved the age of majority in the wizarding world. While I expect you to keep acting your chronological age to the outside world (read: anyone but myself and that annoying beast of an elf upon whom you seem have made an irritatingly positive impression), I wanted wizarding tradition to be fulfilled on the appropriate day. As you know (if you have been doing your reading), this is the gift one typically receives when one reaches the age of seventeen. This one has some added functionality that might serve our purposes, so wear it tomorrow and I will explain how to use it._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Severus_

 _P.S. Yes, now that you are an adult you may use my given name. In private. If you do not abuse the privilege. Happy birthday, Miss Granger._


	12. 12: Milestones

Hermione kept getting distracted from her reading looking down at her new watch. She had been surprised to learn the previous (at least previous for her, later that day for everyone else) not only that Frick had known somehow that she had officially turned 17 and that he had thought to tell Professor Snape...Severus (that one was going to take some getting used to) about it, but that Pro-Severus had actually had a present for her. Her mind reeled because, as a watch was the traditional coming of age present for a young witch or wizard and this one was so clearly customized for her needs, it meant that Profeseverus (damn it!) had had her present ready, picked out, and waiting quite some time before her actual birthday.

The watch itself was pure brilliance. On the outside it looked like a typical muggle wristwatch, silver and not too clunky looking on her slender wrist. However, upon closer inspection it was far more than met the eye. There were three dials on one side, each of which, when pressed while uttering the correct spell acted as emergency portkeys to the entry room at Grimmauld Place, the Apparition point at the gates of Hogwarts, and the women's restroom at Edgar's bar. (Upon hearing the last location she had asked as to the prudence of portkeying into a Muggle location, but Severus had just laughed and mumbled something sarcastic about how the last time a female other than herself had been in that bar being back before Dumbledore learned how to perform a shaving charm.

The face of the watch could be used to communicate face to face with people in possession of other similarly charmed devices. (Professor Snape had shown her how to use it with his own watch. It was a little disconcerting to have Professor Snape's sarcasm coming at her from a device on her own body, but as long as both parties had to be intentionally directing their magical energy into the device in order for it to remain open she was grateful for the option. Finally, the ring around the face could be charmed, instead of holding numbers, to hold a short written message. This meant that Severus could alert her to any desired meeting times or changes in schedule without the inconspicuousness of sending an owl to a muggle neighborhood or inconveniencing Frick to play messenger. He showed her how to send him messages back under the strict provision that she would not bother him with "banalities, frivolous chatter, or other wastes of his time". One surprisingly well received roll of the eyes later, she managed to elicit a small chuckle quickly turned into a smirk with her first message reading "Understood. Zero fun, sir."

After he had finished showing her all the different features of her new toy, he showed her the small button on the clasp that disillusioned the watch to everyone but her so as not to attract any extra attention with it. When he seemed like he was finished, she pulled on her metaphorical Gryffindor britches and uttered a quiet and tentative yet still heart-felt, "thank you, Severus. This is an amazing present."

To her surprise he did not eviscerate her for using his given name, firmly cementing the fact that his note had not been some kind of bizarre dream and he really must consider her an adult now.

"You are welcome, Miss Granger."

 _Okay, so not completely an adult yet. Well, since I've already got these britches on…_

"If I'm to call you Severus, surely you should call me Hermione. In private. If you do not abuse the privilege," she added, mirroring his verbiage with the glimmer of a smirk in her eyes. She was surprised to find a matching playful smile on his face as well.

"Well then," a longer than usual pause, "Hermione, let's get back to the research on the weaknesses of veritaserum and how you think they can be corrected in brewing."

He turned back to the hefty array of papers spread out on the desk from their session yesterday, letting his hair drop across his face. However, Hermione could have sworn she had seen a tiny hint of a blush in his cheeks as he worked himself up to saying her name before he dove into his hair. _A moment of humanity from Severus Snape. Interesting. I guess miracles really do happen._

* * *

It appeared to be a week of milestones. During one of Professor Moody's lectures on prewar strategy and maneuvering he was discussing the likelihood that Voldemort would go after foreign wizarding alliances when she managed to make enough of a noise that he actually took a rare pause for a question.

"Before going after wizarding powers in other countries, who could possibly turn him down or even oppose him, why wouldn't he approach magical creatures closer to home? Surely with his lack of ethics or intentions of following through on any promises he could surely put forth some pretty enticing deals, especially for groups whose members are currently stigmatized or victims of prejudice, like giants, centaurs, or werewolves?"

Moody paused and gave her an unreadable look that she had never seen on him before. Assuming it was a variation on his 'how dare you waste my time with such a stupid question, she gripped her wand a little tighter. (It would not be the first time he would have sent a stinging hex her way in lieu of an answer to a question he deemed unworthy of a verbal answer.) Instead he pulled a grizzled notebook out of his pocket and scratched something down with the most gnarled self-inking quill she had ever seen. Moody said nothing in response, but instead restarted his lecture as if she hadn't spoken.

She thought the lack of response was bizarre for a few seconds but promptly forgot about the whole thing until a few days later. Severus was giving her some updates on the Order business that was covered in the previous night's meeting (the one of which, just like all the others, she was to swear to have no knowledge should anyone else ask her about it) when he gave her a funny side glance as he spoke.

"Ah, and it seems one of our outside consultants brought it to Moody s attention that the Dark Lord might attempt to seek out support from various nonhuman members of the magical community, so Lupin has been sent to parley with the werewolves, Hagrid to the giants, and Dumbledore has volunteered himself to speak with the centaurs."

Severus paused, observing her under the guise of taking another bite. Hermione nodded for a few seconds before her brain caught up with her. She jerked her head up to meet his amused gaze, her eyes as wide as saucers. At this cartoonish reaction Severus' snort of laughter halted the fork full of potatoes that have been on it's way to his mouth, "I have never said this before, but I actually wish that Creevey boy and his infernal camera had been here to capture that reaction. You look like a surprised house elf."

"You mean to say.. they really… all because I…?"

"Eloquent as ever, Miss Granger," he said, shaking his head (but not his smirk) and going back to his potatoes.

"Hermione," she corrected, trying to reestablish her footing in the conversation. She was rewarded when he definitely did color slightly in the half second pause he took before reestablishing his smirk solidly in place. _If I had that kind of control over my face I could be having a torrid affair with the Pope and Harry and Ron would never catch on._ A raised eyebrow joined his signature smirk as he drew a small breath.

"So, _Hermione,"_ he stressed _each syllable, making her name sound more decadent than she had ever heard it before, "_ what are your thoughts on the Orders current relationship with the auror department?"

And they went on as if nothing had happened.

* * *

The rest of the summer followed in similar fashion. She reveled in the freedom the time turner gave her to do a million things at one time, but to do each thing well. She had time to study her notes and do the appropriate readings in between sessions with Moody without skiving off on her sleep. She got to go on her runs each (of her) mornings during which she mentally reviewed her combat techniques in between training sessions with Edgar.

After every lunch with Minerva (who had taken a leaf out of Severus's book and insisted that she was Minerva now, giving the younger witch a knowing look) or Madame Pomfrey she rewound a few hours and went over the healing techniques she was learning (because Harry and Ron were definitely going to be splinched, stabbed, scraped, and shanked on the daily if the healers curriculum was anything close to accurate and practicing her Apparition (which Minerva had begun teaching her curiously soon after she "officially" turned seventeen.

The most fulfilling part of each "day" had turned out to be her time spent brewing with Severus. He had warned her that his attendance might be sporadic, but he had missed very few days across the summer and actually stayed to have lunch with her when another order member wasn't available. True to his word, they were on pace to have all her NEWT level coursework finished by the end of summer and he was starting to integrate in the kinds of original potions and research questions that would compromise her apprenticeship.

Severus had been quite surprised to see that, separated from the self-imposed necessity of coaching Potter, Weasley, and the Longbottom disaster through things, she was freed up to think for herself, ask questions about the reasons behind each step of the brewing process, and to begin to display more intuitive brewing instead of following the instructions to a maniacal t. They had lapsed into a comfortable back-and-forth while they brewed in which her learning sounded much more like a conversation than a lecture. Once he was able to convince her that she need not follow the instructions like they were gospel she was every bit the quick study she was portrayed to be, and began displaying a remarkable level of intuition and aptitude for the subject.

Hermione had been quite surprised to see that she and Severus would end up with such an amiable relationship. He was every bit of the snarky, sarcastic git as he ever was, but now that he had accepted her as a peer, she was allowed to be a snarky, sarcastic swot right back and she was enjoying every minute of it. Their pattern of witty banter quickly turned into the highlight of the day for her, his wit giving her a level of intellectual stimulation Harry and Ron, unfortunately, could not attain.

She would often find herself replaying a conversation in her head hours later and giggling to herself, a habit that drew more than one strange look from Phineas, who seems to be spending more time on her desk than was actually necessary. Since she had gotten her watch she and Severus had begun passing messages that way, so Phineas's presence was technically no longer needed.

He said that she needed some kind of adult supervision in a room populated by sometimes three or four Hermiones at once. She, however, thought that, at worst, he had actually grown fond of having a view of some nature from her window or, at best, he might actually be starting to enjoy her company. However, the only time she was Gryffindor enough to accuse him of such he bristled like a porcupine and suddenly had some urgent business at the castle for a few days before he resumed his normal post. _If all Slytherins are as emotionally repressed as Phineas and Severus, I'm surprised there are any Slytherin marriages to speak of!_

However bizarre she found the game, she was actually learning to play the role of Slytherin decently well. She found out that Severus had had an article published in the latest _Potioneer's Quarterly_ (under an alias if course) and instead of doing the Gryffindor thing and embarrassing him with congratulations, had managed to sneak a box of the Muggle chocolates she had wormed out of Edgar to be his favorites onto his desk along with the issue opened to the page of his article. Of course he hadn't said anything about it, but his almost prideful smirk upon seeing the display (along with the fact that he demolished the entire box during their discussion that day) spoke more than mountains of thanks.

Her only worry, as the summer drew to a close, was how she was going to adapt her routine to life at Hogwarts. She hated the idea of losing the freedom she had gained from her unofficial induction into the ranks of the adult wizarding world and she didn't know how long she could maintain the physical progress she was making with Edgar or the dueling reflexes she was cultivating with Moody without regular practice sessions.

She laid these worries out before Severus during their last lunch before she would catch the Hogwarts Express the next day. He hadn't said much to dissuade her from worrying. As a matter of fact, he hadn't said anything much at all. He just smirked his snarky Severus smirk and taken another bite of his steak. He had immediately changed topics and informed her that the first official meeting of her apprenticeship would be at the ungodly hour of 5am the first full day back at Hogwarts. Hermione at the beginning of the summer would have immediately opened her mouth to protest, but the more-than-a-year-older Hermione that currently sat in front of him simply narrowed her eyes and looked at him closely, almost as if the answers she sought were written on his face if she could only make out the small print. After an impressively short period of scrutiny, she broke into a small, pleased-looking smile and leaned back in her chair with a soft "thank you".

* * *

Severus was more than impressed with the girl currently sitting in front of him. _If I'd have known she would have been this easy to train I would have given her a time turner and some reading material ages ago._ He knew this wasn't actually the case. Gryffindor, friend of Harry Potter, muggleborn, swot, there were an endless supply of adjectives that should have kept him away from Hermione Granger. However, since he had already decided to turn her into the asset needed not only to bypass Dumbledore's irritating predilection towards secrecy but hopefully to keep Potter from getting himself killed before he was properly ready to face the Dark Lord and have some shot at success, Severus was actually quite pleased with the lack of irritation the woman had caused him over the summer. She was quick-witted and was learning at an alarming rate, now that he had broken her of the habit of simply learning information by rote without questioning, processing, or in any way thinking for herself.

As he sat there watching her munch daintily on her salad -which actually contained more meat, cheese, and dressing than actual vegetation- wearing that little smile that meant she had figured out he had more in store than just "apprentice" work for her in two mornings' time, he couldn't help but feel a cautious flame burning in his chest. It felt a little bit like optimism.


	13. 13: Back to School

**I'm still here! *ducks behind computer screen to avoid things being thrown at me* I know I promised a chapter a week, but the holidays definitely got the best of me this time and I used up my backlog of pre-written chapters. I should (emphasis on should) be back to it now, but don't officially quote me on that. Thank you for your patience and all your lovely reviews!**

 **And now, without further ado...**

* * *

"Blimey, Hermione! What _happened_ to you over the holiday?" Ron made a show of poking suspiciously at her newly-muscular arm after giving her a huge hug in greeting. Playfully slapping his hand away, she proceeded to hug Harry as well. When she pulled back she caught the tail end of a poorly concealed, wide-eyed look between her messy haired friend and his redhead sidekick.

Seeing her catch him in the act, Harry blushed and broke into a sheepish grin. "Not saying it's a bad thing, but you do look like you had a wayward accident with some gamma radiation or something." It was now Ron's turn to look mildly confused, but Harry shook his head and muttered "Muggle thing" while Hermione broke into a peal of laughter.

She jovially began the carefully constructed explanation that she and Severus had created to explain any questions about her rapid maturation or change in her physical appearance. "Well my mum got on this new health kick last year, so when I got home she started dragging me to all kinds of fitness classes with her. The first few weeks I was so sore I could barely walk," _which isn't actually too far from the truth,_ she thought wryly to herself, "but after a while I actually began to enjoy it."

She could see the tiny sliver of doubt in their eyes before she delivered the final blow, "don't think this means I'm going to suddenly take an interest in Quidditch or anything though." And with that both boys laughed, nodded knowingly, and began a discussion of the Chudley Cannons' lack of a chance this season, completely unaware of the bait they'd just unknowingly swallowed whole.

As they walked to their compartment in the train, Hermione tried to shake the bitter feeling in the pit of her stomach. _Too Slytherin for Gryffindor yet too guilt-ridden for Slytherin. This is going to be an interesting year._ She and Severus had agreed that it was ultimately up to her discretion to decide what to reveal about her training (at least to Harry and Ron) and when the best time to do so would be, but both had solidly believed that, given the trio's history of petty fights over basic misunderstandings that it would be best to take some time to observe the boys' behavior before she broached the subject.

She settled into her usual spot opposite the two bickering boys and pulled out a book on the psychology of military strategy. As usual, Ron chastised her for doing homework before term had even started and she somehow managed to hold her tongue when she almost launched into a sarcastic tirade at just how much trouble Dumbledore would get in with the ministry if they actually did put a book like that on the Hogwarts curriculum. Instead, she just smiled and mumbled something about fighting against the inevitable and let them carry on with their banter. _It's not like we've got a war to fight or anything,_ a sarcastic voice inside her head mumbled. She tried to pretend the voice didn't sound like Severus. It didn't work. _This is going to be an interesting year._

* * *

After clambering through the portrait hole, a shell-shocked Hermione, Ron, and Harry sequestered themselves in what had come to be their corner of the common room. After a few minutes of silence, Ron was the one to find his words first.

"Did anyone else think that lady looked suspiciously like Neville she toad from first year? What was his name, Trevor?"

This quintessentially Weasley way of diffusing tension ripped Harry out of the dark thoughts that were playing across his face and elicited an unladylike snort of amusement from Hermione. The silence broken, Harry spoke up.

"So the Ministry is trying to control things at Hogwarts," he said matter of factly.

"And according to Seamus' little outburst before it looks like more people than I thought believe in their hogwash about You Know Who not being back," Ron added with a dirty look in the direction of their Irish classmate.

"We need to do something about it." Hermione's statement was met with a vehemently nodding head of red hair on one side, but she was busy watching the storm clouds gathering in the green eyes to her other side.

"What can we do? If people want to be idiots let them." And with that Harry stormed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Ron watched him go with a sad expression and then turned to face Hermione, the obvious questions written all over his face.

Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Give me a day to think and I'll figure something out." And with that she rose, patted Ron briefly on the shoulder, and ascended the stairs to her own dormitories thinking about how morning couldn't come quickly enough.

 _I need to talk to Severus._

* * *

When she arrived at the door to Severus's rooms early the first morning of the new school year, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling in her stomach that hovered between slight nerves and mild panic. She and Severus had gotten on so well over the summer, cultivating a relationship closer to that of a knowledgeable master and his adult apprentice, but now that they were back at school she worried that it would go back to the nail-biting, hair-pulling agony that had existed between them as the brooding bat of the dungeons and the over-eager, Gryffindor pain in his arse.

At the welcome feast she had almost done a double take when she saw him up at the faculty table. She had gotten so used to seeing the relaxed, dryly sarcastic, colleague version of Severus she had spent time debating and brewing with over the summer that when she was faced with the scowling, buttoned up head of Slytherin house in all his sardonic glory she had had to fight to remember that her summer was actually real and had not just been an abhorrent dream. Now, standing at the threshold to his quarters, she was anxious not knowing which man she would see on the other side of the door.

She had only a few seconds after knocking timidly using their pre-arranged sequence of knocks before the door was opened, much to her relief, by the Severus she had known all summer. He was clean shaven but obviously still sleepy eyed. He was wearing his black pants, but had yet to don the multi-buttoned coat that struck fear into potions students everywhere. Instead, the crisp white button down shirt that no one could see him wearing underneath said coat was unbuttoned at the top two buttons, making him look like a concert pianist on break between two performances.

He opened the door and wordlessly gestured for her to come in. He motioned to a sitting area in which two large plush chairs faced a roaring fire with a tea spread laid out between them. He walked back to one of what she could see were many, many doors and disappeared into what she assumed was his private rooms, leaving her alone in the entry room. As she further inspected the room, the most salient feature (other than the overflowing bookshelves covering the entirety of two of the four walls of the room) was the vast array of doors covering the other two. The one she just came in had a door on either side of it, neither one was visible from the outside. The wall immediately to the right had five more doors, each a different style and color, and there was a solitary archway cut into the book-covered wall immediately in front of her which she could see led to a small kitchen.

Putting her curiosity aside she headed to the two plush chairs, fixed a cup of tea for herself and, after a moment of self-doubt, fixed a second cup the way she knew Severus took his tea. She then perched herself into the chair closest to the fire and was about to pull out a book when Severus came back into the room. He sat in the chair opposite her, picked up his tea with an appreciative nod of gratitude and acknowledgement, and took a large sip. From the way he inhaled the tea instead of merely drinking it to the huge sigh he let out afterwards, Hermione officially confirmed the diagnosis she had been considering since she saw him sleepy-eyed and silent at the door: Severus Snape was not a morning person.

After a few more minutes sitting in companionable silence and counting repetitions of his closed-eyed sip and sigh routine, she could feel the light starting to turn on behind his eyes. After the last sip, he sighed once more before turning his eyes away from the fixed point he had been examining somewhere on the wall behind her and sent her a small smile.

"So, Hermione, how is life back among the dunderheads?"

Hermione sent him a look of mock disapproval, lowering her chin to look at him as if peering judgmentally over imaginary glasses.

"Fine, fine. How are the Boy Wonder and his rusty sidekick?"

Hermione tried for another scathing look, but as the humor of his comment hit her she lost her composure with an uncontrollable giggle. "You win, Severus. I actually hadn't heard that one before. You must have been working on it for days."

He smirked proudly, "well, I wanted to save it for a special occasion…" He began pouring himself another cup of tea. When she didn't respond, he prompted her with an eyebrow.

"So…?"

"Oh you're not getting off that easily. I'll fill you in on Harry's temper and Ron's Quidditch obsession later. I want to hear about this new Ministry woman."

"Ah," Severus nodded with a grimace, "do you remember the troll Quirrel let in your first year?"

Hermione let out a jaded huff of air, "how could I forget?"

"Well let's just say that I would highly prefer he fill the position of defense professor."

Hermione frowned, "so it really is as bad as it seems then?"

"Worse, I'm afraid," Severus' grim look spoke volumes, "It appears she has quite close ties with Minister Fudge and is under strict orders to disabuse the student body of any illusions that the Dark Lord has returned. That would be harmful enough were she in any other position within Hogwarts, but as Defense professor…"

Hermione picked up his sentence where he left it, "... she is in a perfect position to prevent us from learning the skills we need to protect ourselves, turning the future soldiers of the side of the light into a perfect army of sitting ducks."

Severus nodded, "The official stance that will be taken is that a purely theoretical knowledge of defense is perfectly sufficient."

"Well, shite." Hermione stated bluntly, eliciting a noise from Severus that was far too close to a giggle for his liking.

"Why Miss Granger, such filthy language you have," Severus paused for effect before dropping his air of mock outrage. "Aptly put."

She smiled briefly before the look of worry crossed back across her features. "What can we do? I want to formulate a strategy, but I can't stop seeing red long enough to think straight."

To her surprise, this elicited a feral, almost predatory grin to spread across Severus' face. "That, m'lady, is exactly what I was hoping you would say. If you would, follow me please."

She gave him a quizzical tilt of the head before standing up and following him to the door directly past the one he had used to enter his private room. He opened the door for her with a jokingly chivalrous half bow and she walked through the door and into the most beautiful non-library room she had ever seen.


	14. 14: Blood, Sweat, and Tea

**Hellooooos! I have officially gotten back on my one chapter a week schedule thanks, in large part, to some lovely reviews (some of whom may have gently nudged me to write faster...you know who you are... ).**

 **One quick note before I begin, I cannot (unfortunately) claim the idea of "martial duels" as my own. This is the brainchild of the lovely Kayly Silverstorm in** _ **When A Lioness Fights**_ **, which is one of the best HGSS fanfics I have read (and that is a shamefully large number, by the way). If you haven't read it, seriously, go read it now. I'll wait.**

 **Anyway, that preface aside, I present to you more snarkiness from our future couple...**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Blood, Sweat, and Tea**

Hermione had to squint when the bright sunlight hit her eyes. As soon as she got her sight back she could immediately see that they were high up in one of the towers. Each of the four walls, including the door through which she had just entered, featured floor-to-ceiling windows and a stunning view of the lake, the forest, or the castle below. Even the door through which they had just come would appear to open into thin air.

Over the surface of each of the windows she recognized the faint glimmer of the spell that had covered the books in Severus's potions laboratory in Grimmauld Place. Across the floor appeared to be a hardwood floor, but was slightly squish upon further investigation. There were padded trunks lining one of the walls and, in the corner furthest from the door, a battered punching bag finally hinted at the room's true purpose. Hermione beamed with delighted surprise and wonder.

"How in the name of Merlin's beard did you convince Albus that you needed enough collapsed wizard space for an adjoining gym?" she asked in a breathless voice, prodding the spellwork around the windows and noticing that it, unlike that in Grimmauld Place, also provided a cushy, physical barrier as well, giving a little when touched, but never allowing her hand to get more than six inches from the window itself.

Severus couldn't help letting a smile of pride flicker across his face as he answered, "Albus is aware that I requested the use of the unused storage room at the top of Ravenclaw tower, but what I have done to modify it, as well as the fact that there is a manner of entrance and exit from my parlor, well, let's just say that the details are between me and the castle."

Hermione looked at him, eyes wide with shock, then worriedly glanced out the window once more, "you mean we're actually at the top of a tower? I just assumed that these were enchanted windows like they use in some of the classrooms!"

Severus' voice was low, quiet, and full of dry humor, "don't tell me the fearless lioness is afraid of heights?"

"Of course not!" Hermione raised her chin in defiance and, a little too stiffly to qualify as a casual gesture, leaned back against one of the transparent barriers. She remained there and stared at Severus with an eyebrow lifted in challenge until Severus broke the moment with an appeasing snicker.

She stepped away a little too quickly and, knowing that he hadn't bought the act for a second, mumbled a hurried rebuttal. "I can't help the biological fact that lions can't fly." With a smile and gesture of surrender, he ushered her to the side of the room that was lined with benches and opened one, making it clear that she was to stow her bag inside.

"I received excellent reports of your progress from Moody and that drunken degenerate," it only took Hermione a few amused seconds to realize he was referring to Edgar, "but the true test of your progress lies neither in your spellwork or your physical abilities, but in how well you can combine the two." He paused again, surveying Hermione's look of excitement, "That, my dear," he said making the endearment sound almost menacing, "is where I come in."

"Most of the pureblood Death Eaters you will be fighting will have grown up relying magic and around people who rely on magic since they can remember. As I'm sure young Mister Malfoy can confirm," he flashed a rueful grin, always one to enjoy projecting an aura of omniscience about anything that had happened, especially if it happened out of his eyesight, "a well executed punch can take even a powerful witch or wizard by surprise."

Hermione nodded and blushed when he made the comment about Malfoy. _How did he know that? He's clearly enjoying this too much._

Severus continued, "that is most Death Eaters. However, a small number of wizards train in the art of a martial duel. This is a rare and ancient art which combines physical fighting with magical prowess. There are maybe a few dozen wizards in the world who still practice this art. Fortunately, the Dark Lord is not one of them, as he prefers to make a show of his magical power alone. Even more fortunately, you have a capable teacher a little closer to home. "

As Severus spoke he noticed a change go through Hermione's body. At the mention of physical fighting he saw her stand up straighter, her eyes get a bit brighter, her face now a perfect replica of the way she looked before a particularly awaited exam - because in Hermione's world exams were things to be awaited, not dreaded. As he finished talking she had begun to tie her hair back and had shed her sweater and placed it in the bench alongside her bag. It seemed he would get to see a very different side of the self-professed bookworm and he was very much looking forward to it.

"To start out, I will put you through your paces and assess the skills you have learned over the summer. We will build from there and, hopefully with a great deal of work we can stage basic duels by the end of the term."

Hermione was well aware that these were not skills one could not learn in one three-month summer, even if those three months happened to be a year long. However, she was also well aware that by saying she would _maybe_ be capable of a _basic_ duel in a few months he was bating her in the worst way. Unfortunately, she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment. She wanted to show him that she wasn't the harmless academic Harry and Ron saw her as anymore. She stretched her neck and looked up at him with a feral smile.

* * *

Severus had planned to start out slow, letting her gradually gain confidence before he really began to challenge her. However, when she easily deflected his first punch and slipped to his undefended side he realized that, even though they were practicing a physical activity, this was still Hermione he was dealing with. He donned a slight smile and began to challenge her for real. While he could easily have taken her out if he had really wanted to (he was a double agent in the Dark Lord's inner circle, a consummate overachiever himself, and one of the only people living who had been bored (okay, lonely) enough in his youth to devote the time to master both the physical and magical dueling skills needed to become proficient in martial dueling) it still wasn't long before they were both panting and covered in sweat.

Overall, he was impressed by her basic reflexes. Edgar had done an excellent job instilling in her the necessary rudiments of punching, blocking, kicking, and fundamental fighting strategy. Likewise, he could see that the combination of Moody's tutelage and what he would bet were countless hours of researching, memorizing, and practicing spells, hexes, shields, and counter curses had left Hermione with a larger-than-average panoply of spells she could call up and execute properly on a moment's notice. This gave him an excellent starting ground in his work with her.

The weaknesses were in the gaps between two different book skills. She could execute a proper block and a proper punch, but she didn't yet have the fighting experience to instinctively know which she should use in what circumstance and how to transition from one skill to another. Similarly, she still viewed physical fighting and magical dueling as two separate arts, so she could be caught off guard by a spell when she was focusing on her blocks, or visa versa by a punch when she was focusing on her wandwork.

The final weakness he discerned within seconds of the first punch being thrown, and that was her subconscious unwillingness to go on the offensive. There were several moments where, had she really wanted to, she could have landed a decent blow or caught him with a spell, but instead chose a more harmless alternative. This was the thing that worried Severus the most because he could always teach her more skills, but if she hesitated to use them when the heat of battle was upon her it would all be for naught anyway.

When she began to miss simple blocks and rely almost exclusively on the most basic of shield spells he got her attention and brought their session to a halt. Chest heaving, she asked jokingly through gasps of breath, "are we done already?"

"Yes, you'll have to have mercy on an old man such as myself," he replied in a perfectly normal tone of voice. _I desperately want to pant and possibly sit down, but I'm surely not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she can wind me on her first time out._

Upon hearing that the session was over she let out a relieved sigh and unceremoniously dropped to the floor in an undignified tangle of limbs and hair. She lay panting on the magically-squishy hardwoods for some time catching her breath, while Severus conjured them two large glasses and cast a nonverbal _aguamenti_ to fill them both with clear, cool water. She sat up on her elbows and accepted her glass gratefully, her experiences with Edgar the only things that kept her sipping slowly instead of downing it in one gulp and risking the upset stomach that came with excess water consumption after that much exercise.

Severus finally allowed himself to sit down on one of the benches under the guise of putting back on the dragonhide boots he had shed before their training began. As soon as he was sitting he trusted himself to be able to have a full conversation without betraying that he had been almost as out of breath as she was.

"You have quite a grasp of the basics, Hermione. I'll have to give that old codger his due; I didn't think you had it in you."

Hermione casually dipped the tips of her fingers in her water and flicked the droplets at him. The first time they were true to target, laying a fine mist across his face, but by the second flick he wandlessly and wordlessly redirected and enlarged the droplets to hover over her head before dropping one by one like water balloons. Hermione let out a groan before collapsing back on her back with a peel of giggling. After she had used her wand to dry herself off, she rolled over to face him once more.

"Okay, you really must teach me how to do nonverbal and wandless magic. I'm little more than target practice for you without them."

Severus laughed one genuine, booming laugh and held out his hand to help her up, "I'll add it to the list".

* * *

"So what are we going to do about Umbridge?" Hermione asked, now that both of them were showered, redress especially, and sitting in Severus's entry room once more.

"What am I going to do or what can you do?" Severus asked, making quick work of the layout of scones Frick had provided after giving Hermione a fairly paternal looking hug followed by a pat on the head. _I really do wonder if allowing them to get so close is going to come back to bite me._

"Either one, really," Hermione said through a mouthful of her own.

"Well I, for one, plan to keep a low profile while seeing how many spells I can cast on her horrible pink wardrobe without her noticing," Severus said with the objectivity of a surgeon.

Hermione snorted into her scone, "And what about those of us whom she is allowed to throw into detention for the rest of our born days should we attempt to follow your heady example?"

"Well, someone is going to need to teach the students a modicum of self defense and, as our _fearless leader_ cannot seem to see his way towards assigning me to the position, I'm afraid it's going to have to be you. Do you think the Boy Wonder would listen to you if you tried to start passing along what you've been learning?"

"Has he ever listened when I tried to pass along what I've learned?"

"Judging from what I've witnessed in my classroom I would give that a categorical negative. However, given the gravity of the situation and the fact that lives are quite literally at stake, do you think he could see his way to an exception?"

"Not right now, no. Albeit we've not been back but 24 hours, it feels like he has withdrawn into himself. He gets so angry and defiant any time anyone tries to make a suggestion, no matter how small."

Snape nodded knowingly, "Ah, the joys of adolescence. Have I mentioned how grateful I am that your adventures with functional jewelery have spared me the joys of experiencing your moody teenage years in real time?"

"Oh, Severus, your compliments flatter me so," Hermione pretended to fan herself and swoon until she was interrupted by a flying scone that seemed to have been launched from Severus' general direction. She caught it and took a triumphant bite while smirking at him with evident pride.

"All right, Miss Reflexes," Severus picked up the conversation but didn't completely rid himself of the smile on his face, "how stands your disposition to a more Slytherin approach to young Mister Potter? Possibly capitalizing on his never-ending distrust for authority figures and need to protect his friends?"

Hermione paused in thought, wheels almost visibly turning as she munched on the projectile scone. "It could work, but I couldn't be too heavy handed with it, and I would have to wait for the right opportunity."

Severus grimaced as he finished the last of his tea, "unfortunately, given what I have seen of our esteemed defense against the dark arts professor, I believe you won't have to wait long."


	15. 15: A Little Slytherin Goes a Long Way

**Hello there!**

 **I want to apologize ahead of time that this is a shorter chapter, but that's the way it kept turning out no matter how hard I tried. The next chapter is one for which I am very excited and it kind of needs to be on its own.**

 **That being said, thank you again to all of you for so many lovely (and some hilarious) reviews. You guys are really the best.**

* * *

"Who could possibly be out there that would want to harm children?" The sheer nerve of her statements was second only to her saccharine tone in making every Gryffindor in the class grip their wands a little tighter. It was obvious that everyone wanted to say something to contradict her, but equally obvious to everyone that only bad things would happen if they did. Well, obvious to _almost_ everyone…

Hermione grimaced at the growing confrontation. She didn't know this Umbridge woman from Adam, but she knew when Harry's face turned that red absolutely nothing good could come of it. _I guess Severus was right after all. The right opportunity to talk to Harry didn't take long to present itself at all._

* * *

"She has got to be stopped! Don't you see? She's trying to pretend that what I saw in that bloody graveyard was just something I made up!" Harry had been pacing back and forth in the common room for the better part of a half hour, eliciting strange looks from other years, working his way onto Ron and Hermione's nerves, and beginning to pose a serious threat to the structural integrity of the carpet.

"How are we going to stop her, mate? If she wants to force us to write essays full of rubbish all year there's not much we can do about it, is there?"

Harry fumed for a second while Hermione thanked her lucky stars and the unintentional genius that was Ronald Weasley before speaking in a quiet voice, "maybe there is something we can do."

"What is it Hermione?" Ron spoke, but both boys looked at her expectantly.

"Well last year I was worried about falling behind in my Arithmancy and I began wishing that there was some way I could get extra help with the materials, maybe from students who have taken the course before…"

Harry cut her off, "I don't see how an Arithmancy study group is going to help us here, Hermione."

Taking a deep breath to hold her patience, Hermione tried again, "But starting a defense group might We could teach people the skills they'll actually need…"

Again, Hermione was interrupted by an angry Harry, "That's not what this is about, Hermione! People don't even believe me when I tell them he's back. It's just me! I'm the only one that can do this."

"Don't you think that, with everything that's going on people need to know how to defend themselves?" Hermione asked with a sharp edge to her even voice.

"I'm the bloody chosen one, Hermione!"

 _Oh how I wish it hadn't come to this. Godric forgive me for pulling this card, but he just won't listen any other way. Here goes nothing._

Hermione drew herself up to what seemed like greater than her actual height. It was the same transition Severus had noticed the first time he and Hermione had fought in the gym, but without the knowledge of her summer of training as context Harry and the silently spectating Ron were blindsided when she suddenly shed her shy schoolgirl facade, claimed every day of the extra years she had put on, and spoke with the quiet precision of someone who knew exactly what she wanted and would not tolerate any other outcome.

"Oh you're the only one who has a need for defense training, are you? I surely don't need to know how to fight against the Death Eaters that think mudblood scum such as myself isn't worthy of the magic I wield. Surely Neville doesn't need to learn how to fight the people who tortured his parents into insanity. And you're spot on that Ginny won't ever want to face the man that possessed her when she was only eleven years old and almost killed her. And Ron? Everyone knows he's best friends with the chosen one, so it'd be best for him to know as little practical offensive magic as possible."

She knew she had made her point because Harry and Ron were both staring at her with wide eyes. Harry had stopped pacing and Ron had subconsciously scooted as far away from her as he could get without leaving his chair. She delivered the final blow, trying not to admit how much fun she was having, "you may be the bloody chosen one, Harry Potter, but if you ever think you are the only one in this fight then you need to drastically realign your version of reality or I will do it for you. Now _I_ am going to make a defense study group and if you care to come off your high horse so that people can learn some defense skills from the only one of us who has actually faced Voldemort, then you let me know."

And with that she turned in a snap and walked purposefully up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. It took everything in her not to turn and see the looks on the boys' faces as she walked away, but she knew it was necessary to the poignancy of her exit that she completely ignore them.

As soon as she vanished from sight, A still pale Ron turned to Harry, who looked waist deep in a very sticky thought and broke the tension again, "is it just me or did she get even scarier over the summer? I mean, she used to be…" he paused for a second but decided to go on even though he couldn't find the words he sought "...but now she's well and truly terrifying."

His matter of fact tone seemed to jerk Harry out of his thoughts. Harry stared at Ron a few seconds as if his hair had turned green and then suddenly burst out laughing. The boys laughed far longer and far harder than the actual joke merited, but there was so much tension hanging in the air it somehow amplified the humor. When Harry finally caught a breath and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes, he looked like himself again.

"She's right, isn't she?" Harry asked his friend, the seriousness creeping back into his voice.

"It's Hermione, mate, of course she's right. Does that mean you're going to do it?"

"I recon if this woman isn't going to be teaching us what we need to do to fight Voldemort then someone's got to. It looks as though I haven't got much of a choice."

Ron pretended to pick something out of his nails and spoke with an air of nonchalance, "well at least that's a welcome change then."

With another shared look, the boys dissolved into laughter again.

* * *

From safe in her canopy bed, Hermione was surrounded by silencing charms and listening carefully to the boys' conversation by way of a handy little surveillance charm Severus had taught her. A subtle nonverbal charm on the chair she had previously occupied had turned it into the receiving end of a microphone, allowing Hermione to gage the success of her performance.

 _I can't believe I have to wait a whole day before I can tell Severus how easy that was. The damn Slytherin is going to be too smug for words._ However, despite how excited she was to relay her victory, she and Severus had agreed that the safest way for her to double up on her time in the castle was for her to make a show of going to bed and warding her curtains, then for Frick to collect her from her bed (at 11pm) each night and take her to the apprentice quarters the castle had added adjoining Severus' sitting room when she officially accepted her apprenticeship. She would then turn back a day and study, review, and do her calisthenic workouts all without leaving the room, thereby avoiding the risk that someone could see the wrong Hermione at the wrong time. Frick would bring her food and anything else she needed to her private room in the dungeons for the "next" (really the previous) 24 hours, at which time he would bring her back up to the already-drawn curtains of her bed in Gryffindor tower, where she would sleep for the night and wake up the next day without anyone being the wiser. It was then a full day of research and two "good" nights of sleep later that Hermione met Severus in his sitting room already wearing her workout gear for their morning training session.


	16. 16: The Modified Pensive

**Hello there! Because you guys were so patient with my piddly little chapter last week, this one is almost double the usual length and is probably my favorite to date. As always, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Which reminds me, I usually do a one-shot for my 100th review on a new story (which is drawing near for this one), just fyi. Hinthintwinkwink...**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: The Modified Pensive**

Severus Snape was worried. He had come to put an uncharacteristic amount of faith in the sneaky little plan of his to turn Hermione into the weapon that the side of the light would use not only to keep the Boy Who Lived To Be a Pain In His Arse from dying a grisly death before he even confronted the Dark Lord but possibly even - hope of hopes- to gain an advantage for a change in this god-forsaken war.

However, he had been training with the woman for a week and from the first session he had known he had a serious problem on his hands. Yes, Hermione had taken like a fish to water to the psychological aspects of warfare he usually proclaimed only his Slytherins had a chance at grasping. The way she had handled Potter and gotten him on board with the idea of an underground defense "study group" suggested true potential in the clandestine arts, yet the glow of pride in her eyes as she told him of her victory showed him just how much his opinion still meant to her.

No, the issue was not in her head game, so to speak, but in her prowess as a soldier. While the summer with Edgar and Moody had given her more skill and competency than he had initially hoped, this was still the girl who had knitted hats for all of the house elves. She could anthropomorphise a doorknob and had the biggest bleeding heart he had ever encountered. This was a great quality in a friend or a human being in general, but quite a problematic one as a warrior.

No matter how hard he pushed her in training, she always picked the least lethal of her options and, when given a choice, would always opt for defensive casting over offensive incapacitation of her enemies. There were times when she could have actually won a mock duel with him, but her pesky humanity had given him that half second of pause he needed to escape whatever precarious position he was in.

There was always the chance that this was just due to the fact that he was her long-time professor and newly-found friend and that she would immediately change her tune when dueling an actual Death Eater, but he wasn't willing to take that risk and it wasn't as if he could simply borrow Lucius for an afternoon to find out.

After their first training session he had begun working on a potential solution to the problem in his lab. Because who really needs sleep anyway by Thursday he had a workable prototype, but he decided to wait until the weekend to introduce it to her because she would, unfortunately, be quite likely to be too emotionally and physically drained to attend classes after training with it.

Today was Saturday, so armed with vial and stone basin in hand, he went to meet Hermione in the training room. By Tuesday morning he had already decided it would be easiest for everyone to just add her to the wards for his entry room, sitting room, and the gym, so she was already there and laid out on the floor stretching when he walked in.

She gave him a sleepy nod of greeting, but it transformed into an inquisitive head tilt as she saw the basin he was carrying. She lithely rolled back onto her shoulders and used the strength of her arms to catapult herself into a standing position. It was a move she had learned for fun from watching too many Muggle action movies with her dad, but it made Edgar laugh so hard the first time she did it he insisted that it was the only way she was ever allowed to stand up if he was able to knock her down. After a summer it had become a habit. When she had accidentally used this method of getting up in her first sparring session with Severus, she had been pleased to find it amused Severus just as much as it had Edgar, eliciting a deep, booming laugh from the dark man, so she stopped fighting it.

She could tell, however, that Severus had something on his mind this morning, for his face didn't even twitch as she popped up and padded over to him.

"We have been training together for almost a week now, Hermione,and I have finished assessing the skills you gained over the summer."

At the word "assessing" the sleepy smile on her face vanished and she was fully awake and focused on what he was saying.

"Your technical skills are far above what I had hoped after just one summer. Your conditioning is excellent and your reflexes are developing adequately."

She sensed a 'but' coming and tilted her head forwards urging him to continue.

"The only area in which I am concerned is, unfortunately, one of the most important considerations in a fighter and that is the will not only to win, but to win at whatever the cost."

He searched her face briefly for a reaction and instead of finding confusion, he saw her frown and nod slightly. _She already knew._ He put the rest of his lecture on hold to inquire further, but Hermione spoke first.

"I had actually been delaying asking you about that. Edgar would get on me all the time for not going on the offensive, but in my head I just chalked up my hesitation as unwillingness to hit an old man. Then when I started training with you and it just got worse instead of better. I've tried everything short of imagining the Dark Lord's head on your body, but I guess I was worried you would give up on me if there wasn't a way to fix it, so I hadn't quite cowboyed up to talk to you about it yet."

She finished with a dejected drop of her eyes, for which he was actually quite grateful because it meant she couldn't see the reaction her words had on him. He had experience enough for a lifetime of all the downsides of dealing with Gryffindors. Pigheadedness, a refusal to believe that rules apply to them, the tendency to act without thinking, or worse, the tendency to rush into a dangerous situation seemingly just for the rush of it… yes, he thought he had seen the gamut of Gryffindor behaviors, but here she was, laying out a personal weakness about which she obviously felt quite insecure, all in one well-enunciated little package, making herself vulnerable to him in a way no self-respecting Slytherin would ever dream of doing.

The most frightening part is the fact that he actually found the gesture quite touching. She clearly both respected him and cared for his opinion of her, and yet she still trusted him enough to lay out a personal vulnerability at his feet to use against him at his leisure. _If I had any measure of a soul left I might cry,_ Severus thought sarcastically to himself. As it turned out, there might be something to be said about Gryffindor displays of loyalty and affection when they were actually directed towards _you._

As Severus pondered just how strange the world had become that he was enjoying instead of mocking a display of Gryffindor honesty, the world went and got a little stranger yet. Almost without his consent, he found his hand moving toward her and his two longest fingers tipping her chin up so her eyes met his.

"It will take far more than one skill needing work to rid yourself of me, _Miss Granger,"_ he said, starting almost gently but breaking out his professorial sneer for the last two words.

Hermione's worried look became a begrudging but no less brilliant smile as she seemed to shake off her nerves like a coat, leaving the confident woman he had become used to over the summer, "thank you, _Professor,_ I shall keep it in mind."

They spent a moment in a shared smile until he realized that his fingers were still on her chin. He quickly brought his hand down to his side and turned to the side, letting his hair fall in front of his face as he conjured a small table and two matching chairs. He placed the stone basin in the middle of the table, sat down on one of the chairs, and motioned for her to take the other.

"How much have you read about pensieves?"

"I know the basics, that they are used as a way to record, store, and rewatch memories. I know the basic theory behind how they are created and have dabbled in trying to make one for myself, and I know the spell that allows one to remove memories for storage in a pensieve."

"Full marks," she saw the gleam in his eye that had come to mark any usage of their less and less used professor/student roles. "This, however, is not a normal pensieve. I have spent the week creating a modified version of a pensieve, which took quite a toll on my sleeping schedule, I'll have you know. I'll be adding it to your tab." Another smirk made its way across his face and she had to stifle a giggle.

"When a person enters this pensieve by themselves it functions as a normal pensieve, but after a sip of this," he dramatically revealed stoppered bottle of amber liquid, "they will be able to interact with the memory. It will be as if you are actually present. People in the memory will see you and react accordingly. You will be able to change the outcome of the events that play out inside. The reactions of the people inside the memory will be as accurate as the knowledge person whose memory it is."

At the inquisitive tilt of her head he elaborated, "You could enter one of Longbottom's memories of potions class and ask me questions and my memory self wouldn't yield the correct answers because Longbottom himself doesn't know them. However, my knowledge of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord is fairly comprehensive, so these memories should be quite close to reality in how the various parties would react."

She smiled at the reference and nodded her comprehension as he continued, "Of course, none of this is not going to change the actual outcome of the event, but for our purposes it will provide a useful training environment for three reasons. Can you tell me what they are?"

Hermione's voice had taken on a tone of steely determination, "it will help me get past my reticence to hurt people because I will know that no one is actually going to be affected, I assume the memories we'll be using will feature a cast of characters I won't mind hurting, and..." She looked up at him, clearly stumped.

"Do you remember what I asked of you that night in my sitting room so long ago?" His voice was quieter than it usually was.

"You asked if I was willing to sacrifice some of my innocence in order to win this war." He nodded.

"I am going to share with you memories not even Dumbledore has seen. These are things Death Eaters do at their meetings and on their raids. You will see humanity, or more realistically the lack thereof, at its worst. You will never be able to unsee what I show you, but I am betting that once you have a vivid picture of the ruthlessness of those you will be fighting, then you will not have an issue with striking at them in the quickest and most effective way possible."

Hermione's look of determination had somehow gotten even more intense as he spoke. She was gripping her wand tightly, but her posture was straight up, her feet flat on the floor. When her eyes met his, she looked ready for the challenge, "what do you want me to do?"

"I have prepared a relatively mild memory for you to start out with. It was a raid I went on not long after joining the Death Eaters. I and two other new initiates were sent to a random muggle street, told to pick a house, and dispose of its occupants. I was able to steer them to a house that clearly did not house any children, but there were two young men living inside. I stunned one of them before the others knew he was there, but my fellow initiates tortured the remaining man for a few minutes before I cast the killing curse to end it." Severus was talking dispassionately about the event, but she could tell he was still troubled by the memory by the fact that he was addressing the area just above her eyes as he spoke.

"The first time we will go in without the potion and simply watch the memory. You will keep your eyes out for what you would do to fight the Death Eaters and save the man in the process. The second time you will drink the potion and actually engage the Death Eaters in the memory. Also, inside you will see both my current self and my memory self. You should treat my memory self as a Death Eater and an enemy combatant as that is how I would have behaved in front of other Death Eaters. Do not count on any help from my current self. I will not hinder you, but you need this training to be as realistic as possible. Though you will feel any damage you accrue in the memory, your actual body and mind cannot be touched, so even if you are killed in the memory you will still be sitting there, healthy as a hippogriff. Do you understand?"

She was still gripping her wand, but she nodded resolutely. "I'm ready." With that they both leaned forward and touched their noses to the swirling silver liquid in the bowl.

* * *

 _Hermione found herself and Severus on a quiet Muggle street in what looked like the housing that was typically found outside a university. In front of her she saw three dark, hooded figures striding down the street, two with poorly-concealed bounces of excitement in their steps, the third with the beginnings of the confident stride she saw every time Severus enter the potions classroom. All three were examining the houses they passed. She saw the Death Eater who was obviously Severus notice a great deal of beer cans in the rubbish bin outside one of the homes and gesture to his fellows towards the house. They immediately sped up, entering the house with a quick alohomora and pulled Hermione and present-day Severus behind in their wake._

 _She couldn't shake the horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach as the group proceeded up the stairs to what seemed to be the master bedroom. She followed young Severus into a second bedroom as he quietly stunned the man without even waking him and levitated him quickly out of the bed and into the closet. Another flick of the his wand later and the bed was made and the closet door was shut, hiding its new occupant. They made their way to the master bedroom to find the two Death Eaters on either side of the bed. Both looked towards young Severus, who shook his head indicating that there was no one else in the house. Hermione's stomach dropped into her toes as she heard a cold voice coming from beneath one of the masks._

" _Let's have some fun now." The man began to stir in his sleep, but jumped into a sitting position when he saw the masked man who had just woken him. His face was a portrait of sheer terror as he scrambled backwards only to end up at the wandpoint of the other Death Eater. He whirled around to face the second masked man and, just has he began to open his mouth to say something, Hermione heard the same sinister voice say "crucio" and the man immediately dropped to the bed and began writhing and screaming._

 _Watching the poor man twist and tangle himself in his sheets as he tried to escape the millions of tiny electric shocks going through every nerve in his body, Hermione didn't even notice the tears running silently down her cheeks. Severus felt her flinch beside him as the second Death Eater joined in, throwing red curses that sparked as they burned whatever body part they landed on as the man twitched and shrieked. Though Severus knew it was only two to three minutes, Hermione felt like she had watched the poor man jerk around like a marionette for hours when a familiar voice behind them sounded with a deep, emotionless "Avada Kedavra" and the man slumped to the bed face down._

 _Hermione shut her eyes and heard a faint version of the cold voice chastising young Severus for ruining their fun as the memory began to fade out._

* * *

When she opened her eyes to find herself in the gym once more she immediately dropped out of her chair and to her knees on the floor where she began emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor beneath her. Severus was next to her immediately, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as he waited for the heaving to stop. As she ran out of material to expel, her heaves switched to sobs, though she didn't move from her kneeling position. He vanished the mess below her which seemed to remind her of his presence, at which point she launched herself at him and he found himself with an armful of sobbing witch. More uncomfortable than he could remember being in some time, he awkwardly put his arms around her and continued to rub gentle circles on her back as she cried into the shoulder of his robes.

After a few minutes she subsided, seemed to remember where she was, pulled herself back and into her chair, and began attempting to wipe her face on her sleeve. He waited patiently, politely gazing away while she collected herself. He only looked back when he heard her speak.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," she said, still sniffing mildly.

"You are not the first student that has cried into my robes, Hermione. I am a head of house, after all…" but he stopped when she began to shake her head.

"No, I'm not sorry for blubbering, you moron. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Through everything. Gods, you said that was a mild memory and it had me dry heaving on the floor, what have you had to endure...how...how?" She finished with less elegance than her normal speech patterns usually featured, but he was too surprised to even notice her lack of words.

" _That_ is what you got from that memory?" he said incredulously.

"Well, no, I also noticed that the Death Eaters were quite singularly focused and that, once they had engaged the man a bloody elephant could have walked across the room and they would have been too distracted by what they were doing to notice, but primarily I'm just not quite sure how you're not somewhere in the Janus Thickey ward by now? How do you do it? Watch something so horrible and be powerless to stop it?"

Severus let out a deep sigh and, with the air of someone far older than he actually was, simply said, "Necessity. Practice and necessity".

* * *

Her first time in the modified pensive as a participant she had been slightly hesitant, but when the first Death Eater had spoken to wake the man up Severus saw a shiver run through her body and, before they cast the first crucio, she had hit the Death Eater with what Severus recognized as one of Moody's messier signature curses. Before the first flecks of the Death Eater's blood hit Severus' face she had spun on the spot and cut the second Death Eater's throat with a tidy slicing hex. However, she failed to account for young Severus, who had her stunned in an instant. As the memory faded away and they both appeared back in their chairs, he looked at her face and saw a new look in her eyes that lay somewhere between determination, exasperation, and the look found in someone jaded beyond their years. When she saw him examining her, she blushed and the look morphed into one of bashful explanation.

"Sorry," she said more vehemently than an apology could be. It sounded more like an explanation than any expression of actual remorse. "I did not want to hear that man scream again." Severus chuckled silently and held up his hands in mock surrender.

By the fifth time she entered the memory Severus was no longer worried about Hermione's ability to strike first. He had made her use various combinations of lethal and nonlethal spells, physical and magical varieties, and even sent her in once without a wand just so she could see what it was like fighting a magical opponent without using magic as a crutch. She was sweating by the eighth time and she came out of the twelfth time panting with her hands on her knees.

"I think you have this one handled, Hermione," Severus said with an amused smile, watching her wipe the sweat off her forehead with the loose ends of her shirt.

"One more time, I want to try something," she said with a grin. Four times later he finally convinced her to stop by offering to have Frick bring them food after she showered. She agreed and stood there with a distant look in her eyes as Severus put the memory back in his head, cleared the bowl, and vanished the table and chairs. As they walked through the door and he watched her disappear into her apprentice rooms for a shower, he couldn't help but see that she had taken another step into adulthood that morning. Something about the way she moved, something he couldn't quite quantify or explain, had shifted dramatically. He couldn't see the excited schoolgirl anymore, just the woman that had taken her place.

He didn't know how to feel about that.


	17. 17: Death Eaters for Dummies

**Good morning (at least here it's morning) everyone. I'm glad everyone enjoyed last chapter as much as I did. This one is of a similar ilk. I didn't have that planned, but that's what Hermione wanted, so who was I to judge?**

 **As for the 100th review, if you go by order of my email it was the lovely DutchGirl01, but according to FFN it was miss Padme.G, so I will apparently be doing two one shots! My two lovely winners get to PM me with a plotbunny they want expounded upon and I will do my writerly best. Thank you everyone for your support/reviews!**

 **And now, without further ado...**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Death Eaters for Dummies**

Hermione took to training in the modified pensive like a niffler to a vault at Gringotts. As soon as she had showered she and Severus went through each facet of the memory in which she had trained, discussing in detail the different techniques she had used in her various memory permutations, the pros and cons of each strategy, and what she could do differently.

She somehow managed to talk Severus into abandoning his plans to brew all day and dragged him back into the gym after breakfast so that she could try her hand at a different situation. After seeing her reaction to the first scenario, Severus knew that the key to getting Hermione over her hesitation to strike first would be to select scenes that involved hostages. If her reaction to the last memory was any indication, it seemed the Gryffindor was particularly attuned to the protective instincts of her inner lioness. He had expected that training in his less savory memories would enable her to slowly work past her issues, but the fact that her first time back in the memory as an active participant she had slaughtered the two Death Eaters without thought or hesitation had changed his plan a bit.

Unfortunately, he had no shortage of memories in featuring the mistreatment (to put it extremely mildly) of captive muggles or prisoners, so now all there was to do was organize them in a logical order that would increase the number of opponents and their relative skill in a linear fashion.

Also, in their conversation over breakfast she had suggested that, if possible, they could include as many recent memories as possible so that she could begin accustoming herself to the fighting styles of the Death Eaters in the inner circle. While he partially shamed himself for not thinking of this sooner, the feeling of pride that she had come so far in her training as to beat him to the punch quickly overwhelmed any negative emotions he might have had.

In keeping with this strategy, after they had finished their breakfast they went back up to the gym to begin what Hermione jokingly referred to as Death Eaters for Dummies. She expected the confused look she usually got when she made a Muggle reference in front of Ron, but instead got an amused smirk.

It was not the first time Severus had gotten or even made a reference to Muggle culture. She was starting to think that either he had an almost Arthur-Weasley-level interest in the non-magical world (which didn't seem likely) or Severus Snape was not a pureblood. _How exactly does that work with his_ other _job?_ He couldn't be a muggleborn or Voldemort would have killed him without blinking an eye. Half blood was her best bet, especially given the stories she had weaseled out of Edgar, but, as always, Severus Snape created more mysteries than he solved.

When they got to the gym Severus began 'introducing' her to the inner circle of Death Eaters one by one by selecting a memory, as recent as possible, in which he had been alone with each Death Eater for an uninterrupted period of time. When Hermione entered the memory she got to see their initial reaction to her (whether they would so-called shoot first and ask questions later, try to talk her into a verbal trap, react defensively, etc) and then spar with them to her heart's content. At first she had worried about what would be done with past Severus, but present Severus volunteered to incapacitate himself for her with more glee than Hermione thought a psychologically sound person should manifest at the idea of repeatedly stunning oneself.

Throughout the morning she discovered that Lucius' first move would always be a verbal trap or maneuver of some sort, but once he whipped his wand out of that "poncy cane of his" (a phrase which made Severus snort in agreeable laughter) he would go straight for the unforgivables. As it turned out, Lucius was actually decent at hand to hand combat if disarmed, but if he had his wand with him he would never launch or expect a physical attack. Overall, Hermione's main advantage there would be the large pause between each spell cast. It seemed like he tended toward using lethal spells almost because he wanted the fight over as quickly as possible and the pause after each spell cast was to check if he would actually need to cast another one.

Crabbe and Goyle were not as thick as their sons on a mental front, but were just as thick physically, which gave Hermione and her quick reflexes a leg up in physical combat. Their spellwork was equally based on brute force, so individually they wouldn't pose too much of a challenge. The problem was they rarely went anywhere separately and exhibited a slightly alarming degree of synchronicity in their attacks. It was like dueling a larger, darker, more sinister version of the Weasley twins. They would cast curses so one hit just as you were defending yourself against the other so you had to physically dodge the second curse or, as Severus the Showoff demonstrated, defend yourself against one with your wand and out loud, while defending yourself against the other wandlessly and nonverbally. Hermione had, under Severus's tutelage, been practicing her wandless and nonverbal magic, but she was not yet to the older wizard's level of competency, a fact he took endless joy in pointing out.

So far in their wandless training she had managed to do the simple 'point and shoot' spells in which you usually just point your wand at the desired target for the spell because she could easily mimic the gesture with her hands, shooting her magic out of her fingertips or palms in a not un-Spiderman-like manner. However, where she ran into trouble was with the spells that took more complicated wandwork, including, much to Hermione's dismay, the swish and flick of Wingardium Leviosa that had gained her such notoriety with Ron in her first year. She was progressing much better with her wordless magic, as this was really just the next step in casting more powerfully anyway. What she couldn't understand was how Severus could cast one spell with his wand and a different spell with his other hand. When she performed 'silent' magic she was still basically shouting the spell in her head. She made the mistake of telling Severus this during one of their sessions and he progressed to inform her that this was a common problem amongst novices (knowing full well that two of Hermione's least favorite words in the English being 'common' and 'novice') and then ran her through a defensive drill so fast-paced that she literally didn't have the time to think the incantation for a shield spell or she would already be suffering the effects of Severus' stinging hexes. After the most painful five minutes of training since the first day Moody started casting spells in the midst of a lecture, Hermione managed to get a solid enough feel for her magic that she could easily cast the charm without thinking the incantation. On hindsight, having an instinctive wandless, wordless shield charm was well worth the goading and the stinging, but she had still given Severus her best fake sulk. That is, she had given him her best fake sulk until she heard a muttered "moody teenager", at which point she had given him her best real roundhouse kick, which generated an over-dramatic yelp of pain and a sincere smile.

Back in the modified pensieve, Hermione learned that Dolohov was quite brutal and seemed to favor creative spells, sometimes of his own making, that were more painful than they were incapacitating. This would be problematic in a real fight where one actually had to heal whatever wounds were received, but in a pensieve environment where Hermione could (eventually, after a few very unpleasant turns) learn to fight through the pain it proved to be an advantage because she could still take him down even while dealing with the ramifications of being hit with whatever sadistic purple flames that freak had created for his enemies.

By the time she came out of her fifth round in the fourth memory he had with Dolohov, Hermione was magically and physically depleted. He could see the signs of someone who was continuing on pure adrenaline and she was clearly running on fumes. Despite her protests, he dragged her back to his sitting room where Frick brought them both heaping portions of lunch. It was not until the smell of food hit Hermione's nose that she realized how hungry she was. She realized that she had completely lost track of time while they were training. Seeing it was almost three, she glanced over to confirm that 'I told you so' was, as she expected, written all over Severus's smirking face.

Changing the topic quickly to avoid a verbal chastisement as well, she brought up her plans for Harry and the defense group, "So I was thinking of the Room of Requirement for our little 'meetings'. Harry came to me with his tail between his legs days ago and agreed to help out."

Severus smiled and nodded at her portrayal of the Boy Wonder's attempt to make peace, but instead of commenting on someone he knew Hermione considered a friend, he simply went on to more practical matters, "I don't suppose I can stop you from beginning with a typically Gryffindor call to action, but after you've finished waxing poetic and rallying the troops, I think it would be most pragmatic to begin with basic disarming, stunning, and shielding charms. Have you developed a curriculum yet...yes, we've met, don't give me that look, I'll rephrase...what have you got on the overly-lengthy curriculum I know you have stuffed in that bag of yours?"

Hermione's face changed from a look of chastisement to a smirk of amusement, "I had disarming and stunning first on the docket, thank you very much, but I hadn't considered shielding until later on because most forms of shields either require teamwork or wandless magic, both of which are not given with this group, but I feel you are right about adding personal shields a little earlier on the list. I was also thinking about introducing the basics of a patronus charm because, one, with Harry's little episode with Ministry-sanctioned dementors over the summer one can really never be too careful and, two, it will definitely help with morale to have a flashier, higher-level spell under everyone's belts."

Severus smirked, "we will make a Slytherin of you yet, my dear. And I don't think you need much more than that in terms of breadth of spells, possibly your basic reductos and such, but I'd rather have a group of fighters who are completely fluent with an arsenal of six or seven spells than a group of bumbling morons who are well-versed in thirty different varieties of curses that they can't practice in a real life situation."

Hermione nodded vigorously, "agreed, although you won't envy me for the first few weeks trying to keep everyone in order as they slowly duel themselves into terrible knots."

"If you'll remember, I have repeatedly applied to watch as the students of this esteemed school duel themselves into terrible knots, but, alas, the headmaster has decided Miss Satanic Kitten Worshipper is better suited to the task, so I will have to continue proctoring their attempts at self-destruction via exploding cauldron and leave the finer aspects to you."

This drew a huge smile from Hermione before she continued, "I have students in three of the four houses that have expressed interest in coming. Now _you_ don't give me that look, Severus, you know as well as I do that any Slytherin who would be interested in coming would still have to put up a disapproving front if I approached them. Unless you have any bright ideas we're just going to have to wait and hope one of them makes a move on their own."

He sighed the sigh of someone who had too many people's fates heaped on his shoulders. She got the sudden urge to put a reassuring hand on his arm, but kept her hands solidly to herself and gave herself a mental slap in the face for even considering it. When he spoke it was with a weary voice.

"I cannot disagree with your conclusions, but do keep an eye out for signs of receptivity. Any of the students from my house will have to be subtle about how they go about making contact, but there are those that do not wish to join the ranks of the Dark Lord. If I am doing my job correctly they will do their best to hide it from me, but you are the logical choice of whom to approach if they are going to."

Hermione nodded understandingly. Since she had started getting to know Severus (and Phineas, for that matter) she had gained a better understanding of just how hard of a time Severus had with his Slytherins. He had to lead the whole house as a unified front, protecting his students from the vilification of the other three houses, project his image as a loyal Death Eater to the children of his fellow servants of the Dark Lord who served as spies for his personal behavior, and at the same time keep as many of his students out of the Dark Lord's clutches as possible. She knew from Phineas that he took each and every student who turned to the Dark Lord as a personal failure, even while rationally espousing the view that he knew he couldn't save them all or stop the inevitable.

Trying not to be overly Gryffindor about it, she just made pointed eye contact with him and said, trying to convey all the sincerity she could without coming on too thick, "I promise I'll keep an eye out for any signs." Severus held her eyes a little longer than she was used to, making her stomach do a nervous flip. After a moment he drew in a large breath and broke his eyes away with its sudden exhale.

"Then I guess that's all I can ask," he said, rising to his feet, "you'll keep me apprised?"

Hermione nodded, beginning to gather her things as she was apparently being ushered out. As she was almost out the door she turned in surprise as she heard Severus address her with a voice much more hollow than the velvety tones she was used to, "I will not be available tonight, so if you need anything send a message through the watch or it might have to wait until morning."

She nodded again as she left with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hoped she was wrong about what that meant for Severus's evening.


	18. 18: Things That Go Thump in the Night

**This week's chapter is dedicated to the lovely and apparently-clairvoyant GreysonSteele. You know what you did...**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Things That Go Thump In the Night**

Hermione made it through the night without worrying too badly about what Severus was doing with his evening, but began to get twitchy as she turned back for her second pass at the day in her private apprentice rooms. She made it through the morning and afternoon via a careful mix of calisthenics and shadow boxing in the open area she'd made in one side of the room and cross-checking the curriculum she'd made for the first meeting of Harry's defense group with those from her earliest sessions with Moody, trying to make sure she could feed them as much information without making it seem like she was the brains of the operation (it really would be best received by the students coming from Harry and, come to think of it, it would also be good for his self-esteem and mood regulation to begin thinking of himself as a leader) or making it obvious that she had been training far more than she should have and provoking unwanted questions.

When the time began to draw late she found it harder and harder to keep her mind on her work and off the fact that Severus was probably at a Death Eater gathering as she sat there at her desk. By nine she was so tightly wound that she quietly got up and cancelled the soundproofing wards between her own room and Severus' entry room. She had, after coming back for the summer, finally reconciled the structure of Severus' rooms. He had the main "entryway" room that every professor had. This was the sitting room she had been able to access in order to meet him coming back from the Dark Lord the night of the Triwizard tournament. Then, however, the door from that entryway room led not into Severus' private rooms (the way they did with any other professor's chambers) but into a second sitting room, the one with all the doors, that she could only assume a very limited number of people knew about. It was this room that connected, via his series of charmed doors, the entryway room, her apprentice chambers, his actual private rooms, the gym, and, as she had later discovered, a door to the outside of the castle at a location only a few dozen paces away from an apparition spot. This explained how he was able to get out of the castle so quickly when he was summoned by the Dark Lord.

 _Speaking of the Dark Lord, it's already half eleven and if I haven't heard Severus come in by midnight I swear to Merlin I'm going to steal that magical map of Harry's just to double check._ She wasn't quite sure why she was so worried, but something in his voice when he had mentioned that he would be unreachable that evening had sounded ominous. She knew he was an extremely gifted spy and that he knew perfectly well what he was doing, but being a member of Voldemort's inner circle was dangerous enough without adding in the extra risk of being a double agent, so here she sat, working on a charms essay that wasn't due for a month, worrying like a mother hen. She knew she would hear him come in (if for no other reason than she had put a trip wire charm on the door to his private rooms and connected it with her watch so it would chime at her when he went through the doorway), but she still somehow couldn't seem to rest until she knew he was back. She'd just reread this essay one more time and surely he'd be back…

She woke with a start when she heard the door open in the next room. Praising whatever gods were on duty tonight to let Severus come back safely, she cast a quick tempus charm and saw that it was almost three in the morning. She started to get up and gather her essay-turned-pillow off the desk when she heard a crash and a frighteningly loud thump from the next room. Doing the quick mental calculations for just how mad he might get at her for intruding versus how much hell she would give herself if something bad happened while she stayed in her room, she was rushing through the door in closer to three seconds than four.

At first she couldn't see Severus, but she immediately identified that the crash she had heard was from one of the end tables between the chairs that had previously been stacked high with books and was now on its side on the floor amongst the chaos of its fallen stacks. When she rounded the corner of the chair to set things aright, she let out a small gasp and froze.

On the floor at her feet, covered in a mass of tangled and torn black robes, was an unconscious Severus. His limbs were askew with one leg sticking out at an entirely unnatural angle. He had blood covering most of his face, soaking through the back of his robes, and running down the one arm she could see. One eye was swollen shut and cuts bisected his lips in at least two places. In fact, the only thing that let her know he was still alive was that, despite being unconscious, he was somehow still twitching violently every few seconds.

She immediately dropped to her knees at his side. She wanted to shake him awake, but she couldn't see a single part of his body that wouldn't cause him pain to be touched.

"Severus," she half shouted, her voice unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. He didn't move. "Severus!" Still nothing. She allowed herself a full five seconds to panic before realizing how grateful she was that Madame Pomfrey had such low expectations of Harry and Ron's abilities to keep themselves out of trouble and snapping into healing mode. "

I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to clean you up a bit so I know where your injuries are." She took his lack of response as implicit permission and cast a quick tergeo at all the extra blood covering his face, robes, and body. With the blood gone, she could see that his robes had been torn to shreds, so she vanished them as well. She then magically levitated him up enough that she could ease his leg out of its unnatural resting place and to a more normal angle for a human leg. The second she touched it he flinched and let out a low moan.

"Severus! It's Hermione. You're safe in your quarters. I've got you and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. Now is there any injury I shouldn't attempt to heal?" She remembered in one of their more candid conversations that he had shared with her that the Dark Lord would, in some of his more malevolent moods, punish his Death Eaters with spells that would worsen if one tried to use magic to heal them. She saw a brief shake of his head.

"That's good. Just stay still. I'm going to patch you up now." She proceeded to cast a ferula on his leg, immediately binding it to a splint. She episkeyed his broken nose and mended the gashes on his lips. However, by the time she had finished draining his swollen eye back to its normal size and color she noticed that the blood was already seeping back through his shirt again.

"I don't think you've got enough strength left to hex me right now, so I'm going to take a few liberties. I need to take off your shirt so I can see what's bleeding on your chest. If you really need to I'll let you hex me in the morning, but right I need you to stay still, Severus." She could have sworn she saw a fleeting smile cross his face before next round of tremors came on. She took a small breath to steel her nerves and cast a divestio, removing his overcoat, buttons and all, along with the usually-white (now quite a dark red) shirt that lay below it.

She gasped when she saw his chest. A half dozen deep, long gashes slashed across his chest and midsection, each still bleeding quite heavily. She found herself saying his name again, but this time it came out as the whispered start to a thousand questions. _How could you let them do this to you? How could someone survive this time and time again? Does Dumbledore know this is what he's sending you back to? How often does this happen?_ Hermione pulled herself together and started chanting melodically under her breath, passing her wand slowly back and forth over the wounds on his chest. She watched as the bleeding slowed to a stop and the jagged edges of the gashes slowly joined back together, forming thin, pinkish lines where they once lay. Even healed, they were still visible, but as she looked closer the new scars blended in to a latticework of scars all across his chest. Some were still red and angry looking, others were raised from scar tissue, others were the same faded pink as the ones she had just healed. It took everything she had not to break down in then and there, but she blinked back the tears. She still had a job to do. Gently rolling him over onto his newly-healed front, she repeated the same process for the gashes on his back, which were obviously from the same curse but were more than twice in number as what was on his chest.

Casting a quick diagnostic charm she was relieved to see that he had no internal injuries or wounds on the lower half of his body. He had suffered from major blood loss and was in need of several other healing potions to supplement and assist what she had already done.

"I'm going to get you to your bed now, Severus, and then I need to run to the infirmary to get you some healing potions."

Her patient gritted his teeth against his latest tremors and ground out a reply, "Can. Walk. Have. Better potions. Here. That Way." He jerked his head towards his rooms.

"Well your injuries have seriously addled your brain if you think you're going to walk to bed, at least without help, but I'll come in with you and fetch you your potions." She had to hurry to his side as he was already halfway up in an attempt to stand. She dipped her head under one arm, making it so the weight that would have been borne by the bandaged leg was on her shoulders instead. He grumbled something, but leaned onto her nonetheless as they hobbled their way into his private rooms. He was just about to the bed when another tremor took him and he almost crashed to the floor again. She grabbed around his waist and somehow managed to direct his weight to the bed. It wasn't dignified or easy, but soon she had him settled under the covers and twitching mildly on his pillow.

"Where are these better potions you speak of?" He pointed to a cabinet in the far corner of the room. She walked briskly over and opened the cabinet. _Now that's what I'm talking about._ The cabinet of a potions master did not disappoint. At least she hoped he had such a selection of healing potions because he was a potions master not because he was used to... _no. Stay focused, Hermione. We still have a job to do_. She selected a high strength blood replenishment potion, a pain relief potion, a potion to relax his muscles against the tremors caused by the cruciatus, and a vial of dreamless sleep. She cradled them in the crook of one arm as she walked back to the bed. He appeared to be sleeping already. Perching on the side of the bed, she swept Severus' hair out of his eyes with one hand.

"You gave me quite a scare tonight, you crazy man." She was just about to pull her hand back when he leaned his cheek into her palm. "I still plan on giving you a strong talking to in the morning, but for now I'm just glad you're okay."

She proceeded to pour the potions down his throat, one by one, finishing with the dreamless sleep. She stayed there next to him, his cheek still resting in her hand until the tremors subsided and he was snoring gently and peacefully. She managed to disentangle her hand once she was sure the dreamless sleep had taken effect, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him, so she grabbed a pen from his bedside table, transfigured it into a comfy chair, and curled up on it to think.

* * *

Severus awoke in the morning and took a brief inventory of his body. Stretching his limbs cautiously he was pleasantly surprised to find his wounds did not sting the way they should after bleeding all night on the cold, dungeon floors. He hated that he had enough experience with this to opine, but the worst part was when his blood started to clot to the floor when he passed out on a wound and he had to reopen the wound to unstick himself in the morning. This time, as he stretched, he couldn't feel anything wrong with his body except for the all-around ache that always followed a night of cruciatus.

He opened one cautious eye to see how far he'd made it this time when he saw that he was tucked into his bed, a place he would never be without having properly cleaned and dressed his wounds, a feat of which he knew he had not been capable last night. He jolted upright when he saw the sleeping pile of witch curled up in a foreign-looking chair in the corner of his bedroom.

What was she doing there? He searched his memory of last night and found flashes of her casting healing spells on his many wounds, wiping his bloody hair out of his eyes, and something that ended in "...you crazy man". _How did we get to this place?_ He wondered to himself. Last year she was, as she should be, nothing more than a thorn in my side. Now she's sleeping in the rooms adjoining mine, we train together every morning, calling me by my given name, and now taking care of me when I'm injured? I have to put a stop to this.

Hearing his startled awakening had, however also alerted Hermione to the fact that he was conscious. He watched with suspicion and his most terrifying look as she smiled at him, stretched like a cat, and slowly rose off the chair she had been occupying, transfiguring it back into its original form (one of his pens, which she then put back on his bedside table). She yawned and stretched once more, but when her eyes fell upon his face, currently full-sneer, she let out a snort of laughter.

 _Well there's a response that face has certainly never gotten before. Did the Dark Lord break my sneer last night? Usually that expression sends students running for the hills._

As if she could read his thoughts, Hermione laughed again as she spoke, "don't worry, Professor, your face is just as scary as it usually is, well, maybe less so given your prone position and lack of billowing robes, but you'll be back to terrifying first years in no time. I'm just immune after having killed your younger self several hundred times in a pensive."

His eyebrows were now raised dangerously close to his hairline.

"Honestly, Severus, you can go all Professor Snape on me for a few days before you admit it, or you can just come to terms with the fact that, as your friend, apprentice, and mentee it is well within my job description to care if you live or die and to make efforts to tip the scale toward the former when I have the opportunity to do so. No undue liberties were taken on your person and you have taught me enough occlumency that the Dark Lord himself couldn't tear any details from my mind. You'll just have to get used to someone caring for you." This last bit was said with a resolute nod.

"Friends?" His voice was shakier than he would have liked. His face had transitioned from unadulterated malice to as close as she had ever seen it to confusion.

"Yes. Friends." She busied herself casting neatening charms to remove the sleep-induced wrinkles from her robes.

"I find that...satisfactory," he said, his voice testing out the syllables of the word as if he was unsure how to pronounce it. "Perplexing, yet not displeasing."

Hermione laughed again, "well with high praise like 'satisfactory' the girls are sure to swoon every time you open your mouth." She rolled her eyes and moved to leave the room. " I don't know what you usually do the night after a round of torture, but I'm declaring you unfit to duel. Come out when you've gotten yourself showered and dressed and I'll have some of Frick's signature pancakes waiting for you." And with that, she swept out of the room like the whirlwind she apparently was.

 _What in God's name just happened?_ He thought to himself. _And more importantly, why don't I seem to mind?_


	19. 19: The DA

**In mourning for the stolen hour of sleep that was rightfully mine (at least here in America), here's another chapter.**

 **Also, for a bunch of HGSS shippers, you all were far to excited to see poor Severus get roughed up a bit last chapter...yes, yes, I know it's only because you're as anxious as I am for them to get to the romancey bit, but still! For shame!**

* * *

 **Chapter 19: The DA**

Though it was nothing either of them would ever state out loud, the events that transpired the night of (and were so succinctly summarized by Hermione's declaration of friendship the morning after) Severus' summons tangibly changed their relationship. It was nothing that could be stated outright, no cognitive switches were made, but the air of ease and comfort pervaded every aspect of their interactions. Hermione would steal the bacon off Severus' plate and replace it with the sausage from her own when the breakfasts they had taken to eating together after training were delivered.

(They would still attend the 9am breakfast in the great hall, but when you train from 5am to 7am waiting another two hours for food is a fate worse than death. They would eat a pre-breakfast together, go over plans for the day, he would quiz her on strengths and weaknesses of the Death Eaters of the inner circle, they would discuss how to regulate Harry's fragile emotional state, and, lately, they would plan for the first meeting of the defense study group to which she had gotten Harry to agree to facilitating with her.)

He would not even flinch when she walked into the room unannounced and no longer performed the cursory 'host' tasks such as inviting her to sit down or offering her tea which had demarcated her as a guest in his rooms. Now, whoever was the first one to desire tea when they were together would simply go to the kitchens and make it for the both of them. He would do his grading in front of her (muttering comments so scathing under his breath that Hermione realized the tear-inducing ones that made it onto a student's papers were actually quite controlled) and she began spending more and more of her time during her second day in his private sitting rooms (the ones with all the doors, not the ones accessible to the general public) instead of in her apprentice room. One day she accidentally forgot about this when Professor Flitwick gave them an unexpected free period for finishing an exam early and Severus walked in on both of herselves reading in his puffy chairs by the fire. He walked in, grumbling about the third year Hufflepuffs who apparently couldn't tell crushed leaves from cut leaves to save their skins, when he saw two heads raise absentmindedly in greeting instead of the usual one. Both Hermione's were fascinated and amused to see the first, real life, honest to Merlin double take they had ever made Severus do and let out identical peels of bell-like laughter. After a moment he reschooled his face into the mask of Slytherin calm, but one eyebrow remained raised as he came closer.

"I'm not sure which one it is, but one of you is in my chair," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. Both Hermione's giggled as one got her bag together and prepared to leave.

"I've got to get to class anyway. See you tonight." She said, still with laughter under her breath. She patted his shoulder amiably as she passed him on the way to the door. When it shut behind her, he walked to the newly-vacant chair and plopped down opposite the remaining Hermione.

"You know I can barely keep up with one of you. Two is going to put me in an early grave." Any other student would have taken it as harsh criticism, but Hermione was getting to know his tells. The minor quirk in his lips gave his amusement, the gleam in his eye told her just how much he was enjoying the freedom to spit in the face of the time-space continuum, and the way his posture had relaxed a fraction from his normal rigidity showed a level of familiarity she knew would not be present if he actually minded her presence.

"Oh, if we're talking about who has contributed to your premature aging I think I'll have to get in line."

Picturing Hermione standing in line behind the Dark Lord, Albus, and the gaggle of Hufflepuffs he had just returned from teaching, Severus gave a small snort of acknowledging laughter and pulled out his papers to begin grading.

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure this is a good idea, Hermione?" Harry's voice as he asked that question had progressed from actual concern to 'whiny teenager' several repetitions ago. Hermione reassured him the best she could while trying to ignore the voice in her head that most definitely did not sound like Severus which was intoning 'dunderhead' at her repeatedly. They walked through the doors of the Hog's Head to a crowd of almost thirty people. Hermione was pleased to see representatives from all three non-Slytherin houses. She and Severus had agreed that in order to gain Slytherin members they had to walk a fine line on the secrecy front. If they were too open about their organization, Umbridge would immediately ban it and punish all the students who did show up. Too clandestine and any Slytherin students who might not want to be fully committed to the path of darkness wouldn't know enough to make an approach. It was for this reason that they chose the Hog's Head for the first meeting. It was public enough that students would be able to see and the Slytherin rumor mill would pick up on its occurrence, but it wasn't directly under the nose of Umbridge and Filch, so it was unlikely to be broken up.

When it became clear that Harry wasn't going to speak, Hermione started off the meeting by thanking everyone for coming and addressed the hippogriff in the room, "we have all learned by now that we are not going to be learning anything useful by way of defense against the dark arts this year. We all know that we're going to be needing it, so here we are."

"How do we know we'll need it? Just because he says so?" _Zacharias Smith. Dang it. I owe Severus 10 sickles. I could have sworn it would be Seamus Finnegan who brought out the big guns up front. Either way, it looks like that's what we're going to need to get Harry engaged and on board._

* * *

It had been quite a busy day. The first group meeting had gone almost as she and Severus had expected it would. There was some subtle hostility at first, but it had drawn Harry out and gotten the questions flowing. Once people heard what Harry had to say everyone was pretty eager to sign the roll list and, thank you hypocrisy arousal, Harry seemed like he had officially taken control of the idea. The entire way back to the castle and the hour after that she was able to talk with him in depth about different ideas for the curriculum they should teach the group. As had been the case with their homework since the middle of first year, Harry and Ron seemed quite content to follow her lead on the organizational and research fronts, preferring to take her conclusions and run with them.

Hermione was quite content with this arrangement (in this case, at least, them attempting to get her to write their charms essays was a completely different matter) because it allowed her to set the curriculum with Severus, an experienced practitioner in the dark arts, and simply relay it on to Harry to teach everyone else. She couldn't help feeling a little bit irked at the idea that their education in such an important area had been relegated to an extended game of muggle telephone, but she was glad that things were going according to plan, so she kept her mouth shut about it.

She was on her way to fill Severus in on how the meeting had gone when she suddenly did an about face in the middle of the corridor. She had been fighting a niggling feeling in her stomach ever since Severus' last summons, but walking past the hospital wing in the late evening when no students would most likely be present was simply the last straw. She turned up the corridor and in minutes she was knocking on the door to the infirmary.

The mediwitch opened the door with a confused look and, when she saw it was Hermione, smiled and motioned for her to come in. Hermione perched on one of the unused cots and Madame Pomfrey went back to restocking one of the shelves while she spoke.

"What can I do to help you, Hermione? You certainly don't seem injured." As one of Hermione's most frequent lunch companions, Madame Pomfrey had been one of the teachers who, midway through the summer, suddenly decided that Hermione should be calling them by their given name. As usual, Hermione didn't feel quite comfortable with this at first, but she eventually was worn down and succumbed.

"No, thank heavens, I'm not. I'm actually here to pick up on one of the topics you broached this summer. I was hoping to continue research in many of the areas to which you introduced me and I've run into a bit of a dead end on one of them." Hermione had decided on her way up that the Slytherin approach might be the best in this scenario.

Poppy nodded happily, "I'm so glad you've taken an interest, my dear. Those disasters you call housemates would be well served by having someone with medical training in closer proximity than the hospital wing. Which topic is causing you trouble?"

"I was looking into the cruciatus curse. Primarily in the area of how to treat the aftereffects and relieve any further symptoms."

Hermione bit her lip. This would be a telling moment. She wasn't sure how much Severus had shared of his experiences with the Dark Lord, and he seemed quite used to dealing with his injuries by himself, so she could be opening a can of worms he would very much like to keep shut. She looked Poppy in the eyes as her head shot up. Hermione expected to be the one trying to read the older witch's face, but she found herself the subject of an analytical gaze. Poppy looked deep into her eyes for a few seconds, seemingly on the horns of a decision. After a pause longer than was comfortable, she let out a deep breath and her posture slumped slightly.

"I hadn't realized it had started again. I was hoping Severus would have a few more months of peace this time around."

Hermione hadn't expected this answer. However, what Severus had once referred to as her de-Gryffindorization process had progressed enough that she simply tilted her head, not revealing her surprise anywhere on her features.

"Oh he's trained you rather quickly hasn't he?" Poppy surprised her with her responding chuckle. "Don't get me wrong, dear. It's a good thing he has you. He's stubborn to a fault that one, and if he's letting you anywhere near him when he's recovering you've got me beat by a wide margin. He's only come to me a few times when he was literally too injured to heal himself or couldn't make it to his rooms without bleeding out. If he's found someone he trusts, then we'd best get you as educated as possible."

At that, she hustled off across the infirmary to get a stack of books from her office. When she came back she sat down on the cot adjacent to the one Hermione was sitting on and conjured a table between them, letting the books thump down on it with a dusty poof.

"Now before we get into treatment plans and side effects, it's important you understand how the cruciatus curse works on a neurological level…" The two witches rolled up their sleeves and dug into what ended up being a quite lengthy research session.

* * *

Hermione's brain was fuzzy from all the talk of nociception versus neuropathic pain, free nerve endings, and more diagrams of people wreathing under an antagonistic wand than should ever be a part of a teenage girl's Saturday night. She disillusioned herself so as not to be seen by prowling professors as it was most certainly far past curfew and walked slowly back to her apprentice quarters for a well earned sleep before she began her second pass at what was now yesterday. As she walked, she couldn't help but think back to how sad Poppy had looked when she had figured out what had happened to Severus and, more disturbingly, the fact that she didn't seem at all surprised.

How bad had it been before? Why would Dumbledore allow Severus to go through that (and what sounded like much worse) time and again? Furthermore, what motive could Severus possibly have for going back again and again? Hermione had too many questions and not enough answers. She was so worn out that, when she entered Severus' private sitting room (which served as an entryway to her apprentice quarters) she didn't even notice Frick in the corner reshelving a pile of Severus' books.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Hermione jumped and twirled around, holding a steady wand inches from the nose of a very amused but not at all frightened house elf. "You'll have to excuse me for not jumping. I've worked for Severus for too many years for someone whose paranoia is as young as yours to scare me." Hermione let out a sigh and resheathed her wand, mumbling an apology under her breath.

"You were deep in it there," the little elf shelved the last book and, with a snap, conjured a small tray with a cup of her favorite tea and what looked most suspiciously like a warm croissant. Hermione shot him a look of profound gratitude as she accepted it.

"Why does he do it, Frick? Keep going back there...to that…" She saw a look of weariness cross his face as the elf straightened his shoulders against an invisible burden.

"That's not for me to share, miss, but I think the reason has changed over time. He joined at such a young age and realized his mistake inhumanely soon afterwards. Whatever the reason he had for turning, I think he keeps going because there's no one else to do it. I think on some level he would love to be free of his duties as a spy, at least if someone could convince him he didn't have to keep punishing himself he would, but at the end of the day we'd all be lost without him. Severus Snape might not be a very sociable person, but the few he chooses to care about he loves deeply. If the Dark Lord is victorious, it's muggles like Edgar, magical creatures like me, muggleborns like yourself, and all the Slytherin children he has to keep in line as head of house...we're the ones who will suffer the most. He wouldn't ever turn his back on protecting the people he cares about. Not for any reason. All we can do is try to make his job easier."

And with that the corduroy-clad little elf disappeared with a pop, leaving Hermione with even heavier a heart and a tea tray still in her hands.


	20. 20: The Attack

**Happy Friday everyone!**

 **Before we get into the chapter, I had one guest review that asked about the term "hypocrisy arousal" from last chapter. Since it was a guest, I couldn't respond personally, so you all get a boring little lecturette. *Pulls out slide projector and grabs laser pointer* Hypocrisy arousal is a psychological term that refers to a situation in which a person subconsciously changes their actions to avoid contradicting things they have recently said or done as a way to avoid cognitive dissonance. For instance, if you make a group of people give speeches, half on the dangers of drinking and the other half on an unrelated topic, then take all the participants out to a bar to "celebrate", those who gave the drinking speeches should (according to theory) drink significantly less than their counterparts (even if they would normally drink heavily) to avoid the icky feeling of contradicting themselves. Anyway, lecture over. Apologies for psychology geeking out on you.**

* * *

The rest of the fall proceeded in a relatively uneventful manner. Hermione's favorite part of the day remained her training sessions with Severus. She obviously couldn't monopolize too much of his time, so they only got to spar for an hour every morning (which was every two days, Hermione time). However, what they lacked in duration they more than made up for on intensity.

It was October when Hermione landed her first, honest to Merlin punch. She had held up a fledgling wandless shield spell while she cast three stunners at a fast-moving Severus to chase him out of the strategic position he had been holding for the first half of the duel. When he came within striking distance she had telegraphed her windup to a roundhouse kick, but instead had lunged into close striking range with a right hook right to Severus's jaw. He had toppled over in what looked to her as slow motion, giving her just enough time for a quick expelliarmus. She caught his wand with a brilliant grin of triumph and for a second Severus could have sworn that the whole gym got a bit brighter. Although, he quickly reassured himself, that was surely just the recent head injury.

She padded over to him immediately and offered him his wand, handle first with a slight bow, an old pureblood dueling custom that showed him just how much research she had been doing in that extra day of hers. He took it quickly, intending to give her a scathing glare, but seeing her beaming down at him he couldn't help but laugh. She then offered him a hand up and he took it, standing up as gracefully as possible.

"Nice shield," he said sarcastically through the quickest mock scowl he could muster.

She just beamed back and him, "nice fall" she countered as she heaved him back to his feet.

"Well it seemed the thing to do at the time," he grumbled good naturedly, eliciting another grin and peel of laughter as Hermione conjured a pair of water glasses and handed one to him.

As they both sat down and began rehydrating he asked her about her progress in the modified pensive. He had, after a great deal of cajoling and bargaining, allowed Hermione unlimited access to his private gym and the modified pensive so she could train on her second flip of each day as well. She had quickly worked through the stash of memories he had pulled for her use, featuring one isolated memory per Death Eater of the inner circle. By mid September she had completed those and had begun asking for more recent memories and memories with more than one Death Eater present. It was a true testament to Severus's skills in martial dueling that she was up to dueling three pensived Death Eaters at once before she bested him once in one-to-one combat. However, as he sat there, watching her glow with excitement as she recalled the way she had bested the pensive version of Dolohov and MacNair in the memory of a recent raid, he began to think that her besting him every once in a while might not be so bad.

* * *

Unfortunately, life outside of Severus's was not as much sunshine and roses. Both Hermione and Ron were developing a mild case of whiplash from keeping track of Harry's mood swings. Most of the time he was fine. He was a dab hand at teaching the defense group, which had been sarcastically named "Dumbledore's Army" after the emergence of the lovely educational decree number twenty four. Actually, most of the time might have been a bit of an overstatement. To put it bluntly, Harry was himself when he was working with the students in the DA, but the rest of the time he was in a perpetual snit.

Hermione and Ron took turns telling him the hard truth and being the sympathetic ear he went to to complain about the other, but overall they were both getting tired of his moodiness. Hermione felt bad for Ron, who had to deal with it almost perpetually. She was more than grateful when it was time for her flip day and she got to escape to her apprentice quarters to read and research, to Severus's private gym to battle the modified pensive, to Severus's private lab to brew for her apprenticeship, or to the hospital wing to continue her cruciatus crash course with Poppy, who had long since stopped asking questions about why Hermione seemed to have so many free periods when all of the other students were in class.

When Hermione had mentioned Harry's mood swings to Severus, he had snorted and began making uncharitable comments under his breath about certain female conditions that may be linked to the lunar cycle, but was immediately cut off by a mock-irate Hermione.

"Severus Snape, if I am expected to comport myself as a regular human being despite actually being in the possession of a uterus I'll be damned if Harry Bloody Potter gets to use it as an excuse for his crabby disposition."

It was the first time she had seen him actually, honest to Merlin blush. _I just made Severus Snape uncomfortable by talking about the female anatomy. That. Was. Brilliant._ Severus only ceased looking uncomfortable to shoot a blasting hex at her to get her to stop cackling at him. She deflected it easily with a wordless wave of her hand, showcasing her growing familiarity with wandless, silent shield spells. Severus simply smirked as he silently waved his hand at the chair that had shattered into splinters when his initial spell ricocheted, transforming it back into its original form in seconds.

"Show off," Hermione said with a shake of her head.

"Menace," he countered with a knowing smile on his face. She simply grinned and continued eating her muffin.

* * *

The mostly-pleasant fall routine she had become used to was interrupted one night when her wand started buzzing under her pillow in the middle of the night. She was startled awake with momentary annoyance that the spell she had set to wake her up at 4:30 for her morning training session with Severus had clearly malfunctioned, but her irritation turned to panic when she saw the red light emanating from the tip of her wand. Early in the year she had snuck up to the boys' dormitories and set a tripwire spell to Harry's bed that alerted her if he left his four poster between the hours of 11pm and 5am with any intention other than a visit to the loo. Being all too familiar with Harry and Ron's affinity for nighttime escapades, she wanted to make sure she was there to make sure any little jaunts were at least performed safely. (This strategy had been over Severus' strong objections that she instead simply set a time-based stunning spell that would drop him back into unconsciousness if he so much as sat up in bed.)

With a hastily thrown on pair of slippers, Hermione hurried down to the common room and intercepted Harry as he was coming down the stairs. Harry looked pale, sweaty, and completely panicked.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when she stepped into his path.

"I'll explain later. What's going on, Harry? What's wrong?" She continued putting her body between Harry and the door, but only succeeded with great difficulty.

"Hermione, move! I have to go see Dumbledore!" Harry's attempts at getting around her were getting more and more frantic.

"Fine, then I'm coming with you." Hermione finally let him pass and followed him out the portrait hole. Harry almost sprinted across the castle, making Hermione very grateful she was in the best shape of her life. _Last year's Hermione would have been hacking up a lung by now._ By the time they reached the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office even Harry was breathing heavily. Hermione was quite pleased that she hadn't even broken a sweat, but due to Harry's now wide-eyed panic she refrained from too much self-congratulatory smirking. The gargoyle seemed to sense Harry's need and sprung aside without requiring a password, making Hermione wonder, not for the first time, just how sentient the castle was.

When they got to the top of the stairs they were met with the truly frightening sight of Albus Dumbledore in shockingly lavender Muggle pajamas and a matching sleep hat that made him look like muggle santa clause dipped in pastel paint. However, Harry didn't seem to notice, but rather came to a screeching halt and half-shouted at the headmaster as soon as he could catch a breath.

"You have to go to the ministry right now! Mister Weasley has been attacked!"

To Dumbledore's credit, he remained quite calm in the face of the frantic teenager in front of him.

"Now why do you think that is the case, Harry?" he asked, his tone serious but the grandfatherly twinkle not completely absent from his eye.

"I had a dream about it. He's being attacked by Voldemort's snake in the room at the end of the hallway with all the doors." Harry was still closer to a shout than anything else. Dumbledore reacted not as a normal headmaster of a school would react in the face of a student bursting into his quarters yelling at him because he had a bad dream, but as a soldier would react when being given an order by a general. _He really did know about the connection this whole time. I was hoping Severus was just being his skeptical self. I wonder if he's been waiting for this to happen? Even worse, has he been using Harry as Dark Lord bait?_

Hermione's inner torrent of questions was interrupted by Dumbledore's rapid actions. He immediately sent the portrait of Phineas to Grimmauld Place (where Hermione had begrudgingly replaced his portrait, much to both of their surprising dismays) to get someone to check on Arthur at the ministry. At the same moment he was sending a patronus to Severus asking him to floo in immediately. When Severus appeared in Albus' fire a few seconds later, Hermione could have sworn she saw the smallest fraction of a double take at her presence, but it was so slight she could have just imagined it.

Dumbledore proceeded to question Harry about his dream, but all Hermione could see was the subtle wrinkle that sat furrowed between Severus' prodigious eyebrows. She had assumed from the minute Albus called him that this was the moment Severus would "officially" be tasked to teach Harry occlumency. She had been subtly trying to feed Harry her knowledge of the art, claiming to have researched it over the summer for personal edification, but she hadn't gotten much farther than the initial meditative phases with the stubborn Boy Who Lived to Play Quidditch and Ignore Her Better Judgement. She and Severus had known that it would be he who eventually was called upon to teach Harry once this link made itself apparent, but what she hadn't noticed in her conversations with Severus about it was why he would look like a man on his way to the gallows when the time finally came. _I know Harry isn't quite on Severus' invite list for Sunday tea, but this is something else entirely._

Chalk another one up for the 'mysteries of Severus' page in her journal. Severus left through the floo, given momentary reprieve by the necessity of brewing an antivenin to Nagini's bite and get it to St. Mungos to the rapidly-bleeding Arthur Weasley (Phineas had interrupted them mid conversation to give the news that they had gotten to the Weasley patriarch just in time), but throughout the duration of the conversation between Harry and the headmaster, Hermione couldn't forget the look on Severus' face when he had faced the prospect of one on one occlumency lessons with Harry.

Something wasn't right and, as anyone who knew Hermione could have predicted, she wouldn't rest until she had put the puzzle pieces together.


	21. 21: The Incident

**Chapter 21: The Incident**

 **Made it by Friday! I've been looking forward to this chapter, so I'm excited to hear what you guys think!**

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At first Harry's occlumency lessons seemed to be progressing along with no major incidents, simply the level of enthusiasm one might have towards a painful dental surgery. (Hermione was uniquely suited to make this judgement, given her parents' occupations.) Harry would return each evening from his session with Severus with a look on his face that fell somewhere on the spectrum between "irritated and snappy" and "petulantly angry", depending on the night.

Though she could not share it with either one of them, for fear of an imminent hexing, she found the same mood Harry greeted her with the night before to be present in Severus during the first minutes of their training session the next morning. The one good thing was that, with Hermione's rapidly-progressing skills, she was uniquely able to hex, punch, curse, and kick Severus until he was so absorbed in their duels that he seemed to forget he was irritated. The first day it took her a full twenty minutes from the throwing of the first punch to the first actual smile or laugh she was able to draw out of Severus, but as the days went on she was able to shorten this time progressively each day.

She never asked what was going on in said lessons, but she knew from comments Severus had made that he assumed she was being "debriefed" by Harry each evening. She confirmed that, if "debriefing" meant "continual and constant bellyaching and whining" then he was spot on the money. That garnered her the first Severus laugh of that day.

She did, in fact, get as much information as was really available from Harry each night when he would get back from his session with Severus. She and Severus had agreed that it would probably be most effective to have her as a clandestine teaching aid when it came to Harry's lessons, so each night when he would come back, usually blustering about how horrible an instructor Severus was and how he didn't understand how Dumbledore couldn't just teach him himself (Hermione couldn't really disagree with the second point, but regularly had to bite her tongue regarding the first), Hermione would then pretend not to know too much about the subject while actually teaching him a full second lesson. It was much to Severus's amusement one morning when Hermione expressed her displeasure at the fact that her persona as the know-it-all was so established that she could literally tell Harry she'd never learned a subject, then proceed to teach him a full forty minutes a week on the matter, and he wouldn't notice anything was amiss.

Unfortunately, despite Hermione's tutelage, Harry's lessons were, as Severus and Harry both (coincidentally) described them, a waste of bloody time. Hermione was getting used to the drudgery that had become all three of their Wednesday nights when one night Harry chambered back through the portrait hole with wide eyes and a beet-red face.

"Harry? Harry, are you okay? What happened?"

It took him a few seconds to process the fact that she was talking to him, but when he looked up it was with a shaken look that showed a greater mix of emotions than Hermione had ever seen, which was saying something given the roller-coaster of emotions he had been displaying that year. She could clearly identify anger, confusion, and something that looked like the pictures of shell-shocked soldiers coming off a battlefield.

"Harry, what happened?"

Harry sank down into his customary chair by the fire and stared into the flames. Hermione was about to ask again when he finally spoke.

"He was friends with my mum. And my dad and Sirius… they weren't… I mean Snape didn't even…"

Harry finished as if that had been a complete and logical explanation instead of a spaghetti bowl of sentence fragments and then looked to Hermione as if he expected her to explain it all to him. Instead of answers, Hermione actually had a huge sense of foreboding and dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Harry, what happened?"

Her voice was no longer soft and friendly, but was now firm and authoritative. Something in it seemed to penetrate whatever fog of thoughts was clouding Harry's thoughts and he began talking.

"Snape got called away during our lesson. I didn't think he was going to be gone that long, but he was. I started getting mad at how long it had been and I started looking around his office. I don't even know why I did it…" He began to trail off, but Hermione's voice, still far more fierce than the typical schoolgirl he was used to, cut through the silence.

"Harry Potter what did you see?" Her mind was racing to think what in Severus's office could possibly have put Harry in such a mental tailspin.

"His pensive. It was in one of the cabinets. I just figured if it was that personal he would have hidden it better. He would have… I went in it. I saw my parents. He was friends with my mum. Good friends at first. I saw Dad and Sirius too,but it wasn't right, Hermione. They couldn't have been… they were bullying Snape. It was five to one and he didn't do anything but stand there. That can't be… it's not...they couldn't have been…" Harry continued to tell Hermione about an incident by the lake when Sirius and James had goaded Severus almost for no reason. Hermione listened through Harry's mum coming to Severus' rescue, Severus' outburst, and Lily's resulting ire.

After he had finished the memory Harry trailed off into thought again. This time, Hermione was more than happy to let him wallow in the revelation that James and Sirius were bullies. She'd known that for years. No, her mind was whirling because a much larger and more important puzzle piece had just snapped into place. _Severus was friends with Harry's mum._ No, she knew Severus. He had talked to her about his friends. His lack of friends in the neighborhood growing up, his first friends in Slytherin after he was sorted, his new friends as he began hanging out with the Death Eater crowd. She could practically name all of them. He had never once mentioned Lily Potter. Once, he had mentioned that he had "a former friend" that grew up in his neighborhood and went to Hogwarts, but he never mentioned him or her again and the look on his face was so sour when he mentioned it that she had known not to press the issue. That must have been her. _There is only one reason he would have never even mentioned her name._

He was in love with her.

And suddenly all the different pieces started falling into place. The girl Edgar mentioned seeing Severus with a few times when he was very young. The fact that he was tormented by the Marauders...of course he was if he was a Slytherin attempting to woo one of their female Gryffindor friends, they would have made his life a living hell for the sheer nerve.

 _Oh God. That's why he switched sides._ She remembered back in her first month or so with Edgar he had mentioned that Severus came in completely distraught one night not too long after she was born. That had to be the night Lily died. _The timing all fits. Oh my God, oh my God...Severus!_ Does he know that Harry knows?

"Harry, what happened after you went in the pensive?"

Harry jerked out of his thoughts with a shudder, "He dragged me out of it. Must have come back when I was inside. I've never seen him so angry. He screamed at me to get out, not like I needed telling twice, and chased me out by throwing jars of potions ingredients at me." Harry didn't even register that much emotion when talking about it, clearly still in shock from what he had seen.

"I think you should get some sleep, Harry. You still look, um, pretty shaken up." Hermione's mind stumbled on the first flimsy excuse she could find to get out of Harry's presence. She needed to go see Severus.

"I guess you're right. Good night, Hermione." And with that, Harry ambled slowly up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, clearly still lost in thought.

 _Thank Merlin and his curly beard Harry did what I said on the first try just this once!_ Hermione was out the portrait hole with such speed that she was halfway down the hall before the Fat Lady had even swung shut. She thanked the castle out loud as she went when every staircase was in her favor. She arrived at Severus' door in the dungeons, seriously out of breath, only minutes later. Taking two deep breaths to return her heart rate to normal, she then pushed on the heavy door and entered.

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Severus had smashed a majority of the potions ingredients he had in his office. The first projectile jars missed Potter's head by inches, but he kept throwing long after the door had shut after the nosy little brat. When he had run out of things to smash in his office, he had stormed into his private sitting room and, with shaking hands, poured himself a tumbler of firewhisky and sunk down into one of his armchairs. Having poured a drink, he neglected to put down the bottle held in his other hand, so when Hermione found him he was completely legless with an empty tumbler in one hand and a drastically depleted bottle in the other.

"Go away, Hermione." He didn't even turn around to acknowledge her entrance, but obviously heard her the second she came in.

"So you can finish drinking yourself to death? Sounds like a plan." Hermione approached him slowly, as one would approach a wounded animal, not knowing exactly how a severely inebriated and emotionally embarrassed Severus would react to her presence.

"If I wish to drink myself to death that is entirely my prerogative." He still had yet to meet her eyes or shift his posture at all. She tentatively sat in the chair next to his, looking at the fire and trying to keep herself from staring at him.

"You loved her." It was said meekly, but as a statement of fact not as a question.

"I yanked that awful boy out far before he got to any memories that...how did he...no, of course you would figure it out anyway. Am I allowed any privacy at all?" His words were snarled, but somehow the venom dwindled slightly when he mentioned her instead of Harry.

"She was why you switched sides." A tad more question slipped into her voice this time, almost hoping she wasn't correct. This brought Severus out of his self-pitying stupor and into the full-fledged rage he had felt when chasing Harry from his office.

"You know nothing! Run back to your tower, little princess! I bet your precious _Potter_ is waiting to have a good laugh at my expense." She had never heard him put quite that much venom behind Harry's surname before. He was leaning forward in the chair, snarling at her like a chained dog, but she seemed almost not to notice. She didn't react at all to his fury, shifting in her chair to look him straight in the eye, back rigidly straight, shoulders back, and head held almost regally high.

"I am not Lily Potter." Her words were spoken with a quiet resolution. Her voice didn't shake, despite the furious potion master almost frothing just feet in front of her.

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT! How dare you presume to understand my life! How dare you even…" Severus stopped, mid-rant, taken aback by the look of resolute determination and almost forbearing patience on Hermione's unmoved face. All the sudden it was like someone had stolen the wind from his sails. Abandoned instantaneously by his righteous anger, he slumped down in his chair looking utterly defeated.

"You know you look like Minerva when you make that face," he said with a petulant grumble. He lifted the bottle to take another swig of firewhiskey but was thwarted when Hermione snatched the bottle out of his hand. He didn't complain, but rather used that hand to bury his face in.

"Tell me what happened with Lily." Her voice was soothing, coaxing, the voice one uses to speak to a small child who is frightened of the dark.

"There's nothing to tell. We were friends. I loved her. She didn't love me. I lost her, you saw that part. She never spoke to me again. She chose Potter." His head was still buried in his free hand. Hermione reached over and put a hand on his arm. His head jerked up to look her in the eye.

"If she never spoke to you again, why did you switch sides when she died? I don't understand, Severus. That has to be why, the timing is too close not to be the reason."

"You're too smart for your own good, you know." She flashed him a small smile, but waited for him to continue talking. "I still loved her. Even then. I knew it was doomed, but I clung on. It was my fault, you know. I overheard the prophecy and brought it to the Dark Lord, over eager little shit that I was. It was my fault she died. I went to Dumbledore and swore him my allegiance if he would protect her. I had begged the Dark Lord to spare her, but I could tell by then that he wouldn't be stopped by something as petty as my supplications. So I went to Albus. In the end both masters failed to save her for me."

"You still loved her after years of not speaking?" He met her eyes again and she almost lost her breath at the unbearable sadness she saw in his dark eyes.

"She was the only good thing I'd ever known. Yes, I still loved her. I think I would have forever if she'd lived. It took seeing her name in stone, right next to his, hell, with his last name. Only then did it make it through my thick skull that a girl like that always ends up on the arm of someone like Potter. She was never mine. I thought she could be, but that's just not how it works." His face was now buried in both hands, she wasn't sure if he was reeling from his vast alcohol consumption or hiding the emotions on his face.

"That's not always how it works." Her voice rang out in the silence, drawing his head out of his hands and his eyes back to her.

"Trust me it is, Hermione. I've been a greasy git for almost fourty years now and that is always how it works. Women don't want to be with a Severus Snape. They want to be with a James Potter." The desolation in his eyes was heartbreaking.

"And yet here I sit, having fled the presence of a Potter to console said greasy git." He just noticed her hand was still on his arm. He could feel the outlines of her slender fingers from the heat that had worked its way through his shirt. The intensity of her gaze was almost too much but he found he could not look away. He didn't respond, but simply took in the determination on her face. She remained unmoving, letting him peruse her expression for as long as he needed. Finally, he let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding and the rigidity went out of his posture.

"So you are, Hermione. So you are."

No more words were spoken. None were necessary. They sat there watching the flames jumping in the hearth until the fire began to turn to ashes. Her hand never moved on his shoulder, him taking solace from her presence and her just grateful she could be there for this man who had gone through everything else in his life completely alone. When the fire was on it's last log Hermione turned and saw he had slumped into a drunken slumber. She quietly levitated him into his rooms, placed him on top of his blankets, and rummaged through his stores to find the hangover relief potion he would surely be needing when he awoke. She placed it on his nightstand and snuck back to Gryffindor tower with a lighter heart than she had felt in weeks.


	22. 22: Business As Usual

**Chapter 22: Business as Usual**

 **Dear deeply disturbed following: this chapter involves mistreatment of our poor Severus. I would apologize, but due to my reviews last time it would appear that you guys really enjoy that sort of thing. Or is it just that you like it when Hermione puts on her mediwitch hat and stiches him back up? Regardless, you have been warned...**

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It was a toss up, in Hermione's eyes, whether Harry or Severus was more happy at the unspoken mutual agreement they had come to that their occlumency lessons were simply not going to work out. Harry had swallowed whatever revelations he had come to and gone back to his oscillation between excited about the DA and their efforts to fight Voldemort and a type of raw anger that Hermione knew deep in her bones didn't come just from the teenage hormones he blamed it on. She and Ron, as usual, took turns soothing him and being his voice of reason (although Ron was far better at the first and she seemed innately partial to the second). She knew things had to come to a head at some point in time, but was grateful every day that did not occur.

Severus, on the other hand, seemed to be more stable since their fireside talk. Other than his surly demeanor during potions class, which remained as nasty as ever, especially towards Harry, he seemed to be happier. Well, this was Severus she was talking about so maybe 'less grouchy' was a better descriptor, but in their training sessions or any private interactions they had in their now shared sitting room he was a little quicker to laugh, more likely to make a joke, and just seemed more emotionally buoyant than she had previously seen him. She wasn't sure what it was, maybe having the weight of the discussion they had had off his shoulders had relieved him more than she knew, but she would take Severus' increased happiness at any cause.

The only change she had noticed is he seemed to be a little more cautious around her than he used to be. In their training sessions they had both become quite accustomed to the physical contact that comes with hand to hand combat, but he seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid it whenever it could be helped. He wouldn't take the hand she offered to help him up on Tuesday. The following day he was extra careful to hand her her usual cup of tea so that their hands wouldn't touch during the exchange. Hermione would have thought that she had done something to offend him if every other aspect of their interactions didn't feel more natural than ever. After a few days of hyperanalysis, she decided to let things be and not invite more things to worry about than were absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately, the lineup of things to worry about was already quite full. She had her usual lineup of duties: studying for her impending OWLS and trying to subtly but firmly create a study schedule for Harry and Ron so they would do the same, performing her duties as a prefect, her morning trainings with Severus, the extra potions work she was doing as his apprentice (she was now in charge of preparing all the ingredients for all of the potions classes, as well as grading the papers for the younger years), as well as her self-appointed "extracurriculars". She had begun lessons with Minerva over the summer. These were originally intended for her to get a basic understanding of defensive transfiguration, but the older witch had jumped at the opportunity to answer all the questions Hermione had been trying to slip in before and after class for four years. She also had taught Hermione to apparate and (as soon as there was a bloody electrical storm...Hermione was so sick of repeating "Amato Animo Animato Animagus" with her wand over her heart every sunset and sunrise) Hermione would hopefully become an animagus. However, the thing that had become more of a focus lately was her sessions with Poppy.

After the first time she saw Severus after one of his rougher nights with the Dark Lord, Hermione had taken to spending more and more of her free time in the hospital wing soaking up as much knowledge as she could from the experienced mediwitch. Actually, Hermione didn't actually have free time, so much as she would scout out times when no one (student or staff) would be in the hospital wing and would do an extra third pass at portions of her day in order to spend more time on her self-appointed healer's apprenticeship. As a muggleborn student, Poppy was the one who did all of Hermione's medical scans, so she was well aware of Hermione's actual age. This left little room for the imagination as to how Hermione was spending so much time hovering about and asking questions, but Poppy seemed more pleased than anything else. She passed on to Hermione as much knowledge about healing as Moody had over the summer about defense, which was really saying something. Hermione had mastered all of the injuries that would be likely in a school environment and was now assisting Poppy in her theoretical research about healing the symptoms of dark hexes and curses. It was interesting work and the two witches held an unspoken understanding about why exactly it was so important to find a way to alleviate the symptoms of such curses.

Overall, Hermione was quite a busy girl. However, even with her nose in a book (or rather splinched between the three or four books that were almost perpetually on her lap), she couldn't help but notice the turn for the worse things were taking under the tyrannical, pink-clad thumb of Dolores Umbridge. The educational decrees were beginning to pile up, the preposterous 'inquisitorial squad' was enough to make anyone green with disgust, and the awful woman had actually fired Professor Trelawney.

Hermione had never much cared for divination or for the woman herself, but to treat any human being to such a brutal and public dressing down, not to mention trying to throw her from the grounds, well, Hermione actually felt herself taking Trelawney's side for once. Soon after that incident Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been summoned to Hagrid's hut only to find that Hagrid was already preparing for his eventual termination as well. The Hermione of old would have been horror-struck and fought against the unjust notion tooth and nail, but now she actually applauded Hagrid's foresight in seeing the writing on the wall and making the appropriate adjustments. She did not approve, however, of being dragged out into the forbidden forest and treated like a plaything by the gangly, half-giant, half-brother that Hagrid was apparently keeping tethered to a tree.

The only thing that had made that experience worth it was the fact that, when she told Severus about it, she had actually managed to make water come out of his nose in laughter. She had found that, if she timed it just properly, there was a small moment in between when she said something he found funny and when his inner Slytherin clamped down on his emotions and schooled his face. It wasn't long enough to notice it if you weren't intentionally looking for it, but she had done enough side reading on micro expressions and enough hands-on observation of Severus' face that she was beginning to be able to see that moment for what it was: pure, unadulterated bliss. It was easy to make Harry and Ron laugh. It was harder but still not quite challenging to get a giggle out of the airheads she called roommates (Lavender and Parvati were not exactly Hermione's cup of tea). These were easy feats to accomplish, so they were not that fulfilling. Making Severus laugh was like listening to a precisely tuned symphony, like watching Shakespeare played by the best actors. She didn't get the reaction very often, but occasionally she would time a snarky comment just right and she could see a flicker of the man he would have been had life been kinder to him. She lived for those moments.

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One night while studying at her apprentice desk, she heard the uncontrolled bang of the door to the sitting room. She had taken to studying with the wards down and the door open, which made it easier for her and Severus to yell messages from room to room but also gave her a better way to keep track of his arrivals back from his "nights out". He never explicitly said when he had to attend a meeting or when he was summoned, but he always made sure to let her know in some roundabout way what was going on and that he would be out. She wasn't sure when, but she had transitioned from covertly trying to pretend like she wasn't waiting for him to return to not really being arsed to care to hide the fact that she was there worrying about him whenever he was summoned.

On this instance, she heard the door flap open as if someone had opened it by simply bashing their weight against it. She was out of her chair and hurdling through the doorway before she heard the main door slam shut again. She was immediately accosted by the sight of Severus slowly sliding down the wall next to the main door, slowing his momentum only with his failing grasp on one of the wall-mounted candelabras by the door. She was across the room and to his side just in time to cushion his fall as he finally lost his grip and crashed to the floor. They landed in a heap of limbs, but she couldn't help but notice his body temperature was lower than anyone's should be, even in a Scottish dungeon in the middle of the night. She managed to ease him into a sitting position with his back against the wall, but every time she touched him was greeted by an agonizing moan through his clenched teeth. When his back hit the wall the low moan was replaced with a sharp cry that almost echoed in the silence. When she vanished the bloody tatters of what once must have been his shirt she realized why with a gasp.

"What did he do to you?" she asked, more to herself than to Severus, as she couldn't see how he had even maintained consciousness this long with the amount of blood he had lost. It appeared that every inch of the skin on his chest had been opened in long, diagonal gashes that appeared to still be smouldering around the edges, but were still bleeding freely from the deep center of each gash. There was a smattering across his chest, but across his back she couldn't find a piece of skin that hadn't been torn, singed, or slashed away. As she was trying to find a way to position him so his wounds weren't touching the wall, a grumbly voice disturbed her panic.

His sentences were choppy, each punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a heart-wrenching grimace. "New curse. Combination. Burning and slicing hex. Needed. A guinea pig. Lucky me."

Hearing what had caused the wounds, Hermione's mind slipped into analytical mode and her hands and wand began working in overdrive. First she used a modified cooling and healing spell to begin removing the areas around each wound, moving her wand up and down the sides of each cut until slowly his back stopped smoking. She was holding on to his biceps to keep him sitting upright without leaning against any of his wounds and when she had finished the last area of his chest she could feel the muscles in his arms slowly stop shaking and begin to relax.

She then began singing _vulnera sanentur_ slowly as her wand changed angles and now crisscrossed perpendicular to the direction of the still-bleeding gashes. She slowly finished his back and, while she worked on his chest, cast a nonverbal accio, only taking her hand off his arm at the last minute to catch the bottle of dittany that came flying out of the lab and into the room. She put down her wand and slowly began dropping the clear liquid across the wounds on his back, occasioning a small hiss when the first drop hit his still-tender flesh. When she had finished his back she gently laid him down, summoning a pillow out of her bedroom to cushion his head against the cold floor not feet from the doorway where he had initially fallen.

Once he was comfortably supine she began dropping dittany on his chest. As the drops fell and his flesh knitted back together she couldn't help but notice the wiry muscles in his stomach and bare chest. She knew he was strong from their dueling, but actually seeing it was a completely different thing. She tried to keep her healer mentality firmly in place, but couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to the forbidden sight of Severus' shirtless torso. As she tried to focus on the drops she was dispensing over his last few gashes she felt something cold touch the stabilizing hand she had placed on the ground next to his side. She looked down to find Severus' icy hand resting on top of her own fingers. She jerked her head up to his eyes to see that he had apparently been watching her for quite some time.

"Thank you," his velvety voice was rougher than normal, but she was amazed by the warmth it conveyed. She was torn between the desire to dive on him and hug him (definitely counterproductive for his healing process) and the need to break down and cry. Instead, she squeezed his fingers gently and flashed him a small smile. He held her eyes and she could almost feel him through his eyes. The seconds lingered on and she felt a feeling she couldn't describe in the pit of her stomach. It was as if the thread of their shared gaze was getting stronger by the second and she knew she needed to break it before it got too strong or...she didn't know or what. She didn't have the words to enunciate it, but she knew it needed to be done.

"Next time, tell your dark buddy there to test his new inventions on Mulciber," and with that the spell was broken. Severus snorted a small but appreciative laugh and closed his eyes as Hermione began doing diagnostic charms on the rest of his body. He had a broken wrist, bruising on almost every available inch of skin, and a mild concussion, but she made quick work of them all. It was a credit to her sessions with Poppy that she was able to heal him so effectively given the fact that her mind was only half focused on what her hands were doing. The other half kept checking his face, casting subtle glances at his now-healed chest, trying to catalogue exactly how his fingers felt intertwined with hers. As she summoned a blood-replenishing potion, a muscle relaxation potion, and a vial of dreamless sleep from the lab, catching them with a fluidity and grace she would not have been capable of prior to her training with Edgar and then Severus, her mind was spinning trying to figure out what exactly that feeling in her stomach was and how to make it go away or, more frighteningly, if she even wanted to.

When she had finished pouring the last potion down his throat she realized that he had actually fallen asleep on the floor. Following her pattern from the last time she had healed him, she carefully levitated him to his bedroom, casting a strong nonverbal scourgify on his remaining clothes as she went. She got him down onto the covers before realizing that he would surely be cold without a shirt or blanket. She summoned an extra from his closet and proceeded to spread it over him, careful not to wake him before the dreamless sleep had a chance to set in.

Just as she was about to leave she paused to look down at him and, almost without her consent, she saw her hand move to brush a lock of hair from his face. Without opening his eyes, he let out a soft, contented humming noise and let his head fall so his cheek was now pressing into the palm of her hand. With the same aura of carefulness that one would use to pet a wild unicorn that was, for some reason, allowing you to touch it she slowly stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. Eventually, she felt his head grow heavy as the dreamless sleep kicked in and was able to pull her hand out without fear of waking him.

She walked back to her room in a confused haze, knowing that something permanent had just shifted inside herself but not knowing quite what it was or what the ramifications would be. Curled up in her own bed and absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks' soft orange fur, her thoughts were still with the man in the next room. It was a long time before she fell asleep.


	23. 23: Darkness is Coming

**Chapter 23: Darkness is Coming**

 **Well happy Friday to you all once more. I'm having this strange phenomenon where days feel like they're each about eighty hours long, yet weeks pass as if they're nothing. Anyone ever experienced that? Anyway, we're ramping up to the ministry (it was supposed to be this chapter, but other things kept happening instead). And just to give you a teaser, you guys will really like the chapter after the ministry. Really. *sidles away whistling happily*. As always, thank you so much for your reviews. Each and every one makes my day!**

 **As for this chapter, I might be splicing movie-canon and book-canon a bit, so just roll with it...**

* * *

Hermione knocked spells off of their trajectories right and left, Severus' furious wandwork causing a spectacle that looked as much like a fireworks show as it did a duel. She was only able to get an offensive spell in when she darted towards him and managed to almost land a sweeping kick to his knees. He jumped her foot, but it gave her enough time to get a few stupefies out before he went on his next offensive. She began trying to build his confidence in his magical spells, lulling him into her sweet spot for a roundhouse kick. She dodged hex after curse, working her way closer and closer without him noticing. _One more spell...there!_ She leaned her weight slightly back and prepared to launch the most lethal kick in her arsenal, when Severus' lightning reflexes burst into action and before she knew it he had ducked her kick and spun her around so her back was pressed to his front and his wand was at her neck.

She was breathing heavily and could feel his heart pounding as his chest pressed against her. The moment drew on and she could feel his breath moving the hairs on her neck that had escaped her bun. Suddenly, her eyes met his in their shared reflection on the glass and the air all the sudden got too thin for her to breathe properly. The intensity in his dark eyes seared into her like the lightning that had come from his wand only moments before as they stood frozen in time, the only sound that of their ragged breathing. His black eyes seared into hers as she felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back. For the second time in twenty four hours she felt the urge to break the moment before the strength of it consumed her. With one more breath, she dropped from his grasp and simultaneously pivoted towards him aiming a stunning spell at his legs. He cast a shield spell to deflect it, which knocked her backwards and the duel continued.

Minutes later when she had finally disarmed him and returned his wand, they both sat panting on the floor and drinking water from Severus' now-familiar conjured glasses. They bantered back and forth like normal, but something unspoken hung in the air making it hard for her to concentrate. She had been up most of the night trying to get her mental wheels to stop spinning after she had healed Severus and tucked him into bed, but she couldn't get a thought straight to save her life. Throughout that night and her second pass at the day she, Hermione Granger, had, for the first time in her life, barely been able to focus on her reading or get a coherent mental train of thought. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was beginning to exhaust her. She was almost looking forward to her classes today because, though she was months (if not years) ahead of her classmates and had already completed her studying for the impending OWL exams, it would be a welcome distraction from the clenching feeling she felt in her stomach every time she replayed the events of the previous evening. Or thought of Severus at all. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

* * *

Later that night Hermione, Harry, and Ron were sitting in the common room studying (meaning that Hermione was pretending to brush up on her charms and actually leading a professional-level tutoring session to help Harry and Ron review) when her watch began to heat up. She looked down at the disillusioned object that had become a regular means of communication between her and Severus and had to stifle a gasp. She schooled her face in a now almost-instinctive reaction and addressed the boys.

"I just forgot I have to talk to Professor Vector about an assignment. Do you think you can carry on without me for a few minutes until I get back?"

The boys looked at each other briefly, sharing a look that obviously telegraphed their intent to switch the topic to quidditch the second the portrait shut behind her, but both attempted to look serious as they nodded innocently at her. _They really wouldn't have lasted a day in Slytherin_ , she thought as she sprinted toward Severus's quarters. When she had gotten through the entry room and into his actual sitting room. As soon as she saw his face she knew something was wrong.

"What is it? Has there been an attack?" She rushed over to him but didn't know what to do as she got close, so she took an awkwardly abrupt turn and seated herself in her traditional chair by the fire. Severus didn't say anything, but ceased pacing and joined her.

"Sodding Umbridge decided it was time to remove Hagrid from his post, but apparently her ladylike sensibilities couldn't be troubled to do it herself, so she led a party of bloody aurors down to his hut." All the blood had drained from Hermione's face. She knew that Severus was quite fond of Hagrid, as, despite his perpetually snarky demeanor, Hagrid had been able to worm his way into the potion master's good graces over the many visits Severus had taken down to the forbidden forest to gather potions ingredients. If Severus was upset enough to be swearing then something had gone seriously wrong. She listened with worry across her face as Severus continued, rising from his chair to resume his pacing.

"That bleeding heart Gryffindor you call a head of house went charging in to the rescue and apparently her tartan-clad arse posed such a threat to the five bloody aurors that they saw fit to stun her. All at once."

"You're saying Minerva took _five_ stunners simultaneously? Is she alright? She isn't...is she…?" Hermione trailed off with a pleading look.

"Oh don't worry, I'm fairly certain it would take fifty stunners to kill that old goat. She's fine. Well, not fine, she earned herself a direct apparition to Saint Mungo's and she's in intensive care, but she'll live. She did buy Hagrid enough time to get away unscathed as well, but this is bad, Hermione. Umbridge wouldn't be acting like this unless she was quite confident she was going to have some pretty powerful backing from pretty high up. Especially now that she got the auror department involved."

"Moody must be beside himself," Hermione responded, knowing from her summer training that there was a deep mutual respect between the old auror and her head of house. Severus snorted.

"Gods, I hadn't even thought of that. I should floo him to see what he knows. Not that the old badger would tell me anything, but he'll start getting things moving in the right channels with our people in the auror department." He headed towards the fire. Hermione grabbed her bag and rose from her chair, but Severus grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him. He looked like he had been about to say something but it got stuck on the way out. Instead he stared into her eyes with a deep and penetrating, yet somehow uninterpretable look. She again felt the air in the room get too thin too quickly. She felt the heat of his hand through her sleeve and couldn't tell if it was his heartbeat or hers she could feel pulsing wildly where his hand met her arm. She stood frozen trying to find where the oxygen had gone and attempting in vain to figure out just what the expression on Severus' face meant, but before it could be deciphered it vanished under his stony, Slytherin mask as Severus swallowed.

"Something is brewing, Hermione. I know you can't keep those two danger magnets you call friends locked up in Gryffindor tower forever, but whatever happens you need to be careful. If something happens, you can't do anything that would reveal your training unless you're one hundred percent certain you can neutralize any and all witnesses that could report back to the Dark Lord. It would paint too big of a target on your back."

Hermione once again felt the need to look away before his eyes bore any deeper into what felt like her soul itself. She exhaled deeply and brushed her hair out of her eyes, using her hand to break their eye contact, "...and it wouldn't do much for the already-large target on your back either, I guess?"

Her tone strove for light and airy, but fell remarkably short of that goal. He responded with no more success, "not as such, no". He somehow pulled her eyes back to his. She was taken aback by the fire in his gaze as he spoke, "just be careful, alright?"

"I will," she said earnestly. Another moment of agonizing silence stretched out as his eyes probed hers then he abruptly dropped her arm and turned toward the fire. She had more than ever to think about on her walk back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Hermione was absolutely shocked she managed to focus for the next few days. More grateful than ever that she had studied so thoroughly months in advance, she was able to sit her OWLS and actually come out feeling quite confident despite the fact that her mind couldn't be farther from her academics. It was bad enough that Umbridge had taken the school by storm, but now with Professor McGonagall gone there really was very little stopping her. There was one delightfully-bright spot in the darkness in the form of what had to be hundreds of galleons worth of custom Weasley-made fireworks that detonated in the middle of one of their exams, but even this was dampered by the fact that the twins had now left school for good. It felt as if the darkness was pressing in from all angles. Severus was right. Something was brewing.

It was on the last day of the OWL exams that things officially came to a point. They were sitting in the common room discussing how glad they were to put the last exam behind them when Harry suddenly doubled over holding his scar. Hermione and Ron had heard about his nightmares, but this behavior was new and troubling. With a shared look of panic, they each rushed to his side. After a few minutes, Harry stopped wreathing and stood up with a determined gleam in his eyes.

"They've got Sirius."

"Who's got Sirius, mate?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort. At the ministry. They're torturing him. We've got to get to him!" Harry made toward the portrait, but Hermione got in his way.

"Harry, you're not thinking! Maybe that's what he wants you to see. What if it's a trap? We can't just go running off to…" Harry cut her off.

"He's the only family I've got left, Hermione!" The room rang in eerie silence until Hermione spoke again.

"At least check to see if he's at headquarters first," she said, trying in vain to stall Harry's movement.

"Fine. Let's go. I know where there's an unblocked floo."

* * *

Four. Exactly four bad decisions later Harry, Ron, and Hermione were being held hostage by Umbridge while she threatened Harry with the cruciatus curse. Bad decision one was going to Umbridge's office. Bad decision two was using her floo to call headquarters. It was at this point that Hermione had messaged Severus what was going on through her watch, though he sure seemed to be taking his sweet time getting there. Bad decision three was listening to anything that came out of that demented House Elf's mouth. Bad decision four was standing there and engaging Umbridge when they should have copped to a lesser crime and gotten out of there much faster with a measly detention apiece and been on their way.

Hermione's pulse raced when Severus appeared in the doorway, but her relief at seeing him was tempered by the fact that he seemed to be acting the loyal Death Eater in Umbridge's presence. Five. Mistake number five was Harry blurting out a poorly-encrypted message to Severus. _Gods, Harry, you choose NOW to decide to trust him? After years worth of blaming, scapegoating, and calling him a greasy git, you have to choose this moment to divulge information to Severus?_ Of course, Severus already knew what was going on from her watch message, and of course he had to play stupid in front of the frilly pink toad, which seemed to anger Harry even further. It was at that point when she decided on what she would surely look back on as bad decision number six…

"Harry tell her!"

* * *

 _Well that could have gone much worse. Who knew that the centaurs would have been so conveniently located so close to the castle. They never roam the grounds that near...ahhh..._ apparently the Hermione from 24 hours later had flipped back and done some interspecies liaising for them. She noted the specific time in the journal kept in her watch and made a mental note to read up a bit on the power structure of centaur herds so she would know the right centaur to approach tomorrow (or earlier this morning).

She was just starting to feel like they had escaped the frying pan when the fire popped right up in front of them in the form of Luna, Ginny, and Neville. Harry immediately filled them in on his vision and Kreature's warning and promptly announced that he was going to the ministry. A voice that she swore to herself didn't sound like Severus' began swearing at the reckless Gryffindor declarations that followed as the group of untrained schoolchildren volunteered to go charging into what was most likely a trap to face what were most likely Death Eaters lying in wait. _Bloody buggering hell this is a bad idea…_

"Harry when will you get it through your head that you aren't in this by yourself. If you're going so are we." Hermione made her voice as resolute and supportive as possible. _If you're going with or without me you might as well have a babysitter, and it doesn't look like I have a shot at dissuading the others any time soon. Gods, if the Death Eaters don't do it first, Severus is going to murder me._


	24. 24: The Ministry

**Chapter 24: The Ministry**

 **I want to quickly thank two of my new readers, Fraulein Takoor and Snamione4life, who have recently started (and finished) the story and left me reviews on almost every chapter. I loved reading them and giggled out loud on multiple occasions. You (and all of my readers) are truly the best. And with that, it's finally time for some action! You guys are going to enjoy this. *wink, wink* Really though. You've waited long enough...**

* * *

Standing tensely next to the shelves of prophesies, Hermione's whole body tensed when she heard the all-too-familiar silky drawl of Lucius Malfoy. _I told you so, I told you so. I told you this was a trap. Harry James Potter, I swear on Merlin's saggy trousers if your stubborn idiocy gets us killed I am going to figure out a way to bring you back from the dead just so I can haunt you._ However, while spewing mental profanities at the now-terrified savior of the wizarding world, she took a subtle look at her surroundings. _Shite, this is really not good._ She counted twelve, no, thirteen Death Eaters. Most were creeping in the shadows and hiding behind stacks, so she was sure Harry had no idea just how outmatched they were, but her training with Severus had made her much more observant than the typical schoolgirl.

 _Oh hell in a handbasket I'd know that crazy frizzball anywhere. Whose idea was it to let Bellatrix Lestrange out of her cage? This is bad. Really bad._

She knew her first priority was to get Harry out of there alive and relatively unharmed. Priority two was to keep her and Severus' secret safe. Priority three, if she was allowed to have that many, was to save as many of the others as possible. In too many long hours in the modified pensive she had learned that in a battle scenario you usually don't get to have more than one or two priorities. If you're lucky. And the odds of that happening decrease with each added enemy combatant. She had worked her way up to three to four Death Eaters at one time with decent odds on her own. If she had to protect any kind of hostage or victim it halved either the number of assailants she could handle or the odds of her escaping without some kind of serious sustained spell damage. She had never tried her skills against more than six at once and never with this many people to protect. _Gods, this is really, really bad._

* * *

In an uncharacteristic fit of strategic thinking, Harry had vamped valiantly while somehow communicating a signal to the rest of the group. The second they broke into a run she put up the strongest nonverbal shield charm she could manage around the group of them without making it blatantly apparent that they were being shielded. She managed to stay with Harry, but when some of the group broke off she couldn't maintain the shield around them from a different room, but Severus had thoroughly prepared her throughout her training that, due to the now thrice damned prophecy, protecting Harry would have to be more important than any other innocents. Now if only she could get him out in one piece that would be bloody fantastic...

* * *

 _Again with the running. You'd think that with all the quidditch these boys play they'd be in better shape._ Hermione had somehow found all of the others and, other than Ginny's broken ankle and whatever was wrong with Ron's already-dubious mental status, they were surprisingly unharmed. She managed to cast a ferula around Ginny's ankle, binding it tightly enough to allow her to limp along with Luna's assistance, she used a persuasion spell of Moody's creation (one of dubious ethical standing, but desperate times and whatnot) to minimize Ron's confusion and motivate him towards the room of doors, but it was really a patchwork operation at best. She kept shooting spells off shelves and walls at the pursuing Death Eaters so they wouldn't be able to discern that they were all generated by the same person.

All of a sudden she heard Dolohov's voice, familiar from her training in Severus' memories, begin to yell out their location to all and sundry. Old Hermione would have tried to silence him so he couldn't give away her position. Old Hermione would have worried about hurting him, Death Eater or not. New Hermione took aim and bounced her spell carefully off the wall, measuring the trajectory precisely in her head. She knew her aim was on target, so she turned and kept running even before she heard the sickening crunch of his face as the reducto maxima hit him. She felt a moment of guilt at subjecting him to a truly undignified way to go, but she had to stick to the arsenal of spells that could plausibly have come from any of them. _However, it will be much more challenging for him to reveal our location without a head._ Again, she reflected that her inner voice was sounding more and more like Severus every day. _Must get that checked._

And with that she kept herding her friends towards the door. She had marked the one through which they entered with a glowing mark as they entered so all they had to do was make it back to the room, but even that was proving to be quite a challenge. She had dealt with Dolohov and stunned two more already. A modified, now multi-directional accio charm she'd been working on had made it look like one had had an accident where the brain in the tank had flown out and attacked him while two more had unfortunate incidents of their own in which they happened to trip near the whispering veil in the death room, which left seven of the original thirteen. Now she just had to make it out alive.

The low level shield charm she had reestablished the second the group had reassembled had redirected all manner of stunners, two of whom would surely have hit Luna and Ginny, and her 'mild control charm' (to put it quite delicately) on Ron had stifled a truly frightening array of behaviors, including, a while back, the desire to summon one of the floating brains in the creepy tank they passed on their way in. _If I'm guessing right,_ she thought as she caught Crabbe Senior in a ricochetted full body bind _, the spell they used on Ron didn't alter his basic brain function, it only lowered his inhibitions and impulse control, which means,_ another full body bind successfully bounced to hit the pursuing Jugson, _that Ron suffers from that level of bizarre inclinations on a daily basis. I owe Severus an apology for all the times I glared at him for calling Ron names. He didn't know the half of it._

* * *

 _We were almost home free and then you had to go and be the hero._ For what felt like the millionth time that night, Hermione cursed at Harry in her head as he hurriedly told them to 'save themselves' and took off at a dead run, very loudly, towards what she knew to be the death chamber. She saw Bellatrix and Lucius follow him immediately, as well as Luna, Ginny, and Neville. She knew she should be following Harry, but with the now five Death Eaters in pursuit and no witnesses, she knew she had just been given a precious gift. She quickly disillusioned herself, stepped to the side, and, in a few seconds when the Death Eaters stampeded into view, she fired off five quick, consecutive stunners hitting each one dead between the shoulder blades. (In her training she had discovered that the efficacy of a stunner was maximized with proximity to the heart.) She then followed this up with a modified, time-release incarcerous to ensure that they couldn't escape for sixty minutes even if someone arrived to ennervate them, and sprinted after her friends into the death chamber.

* * *

 _About bloody time._ The Order had finally gotten there around the time she reentered the room. Lucius Malfoy had been facing off with Harry while Bellatrix tortured a screaming Neville and fended off curses from Luna and Ginny. Even with the reduced numbers it was a miracle they had held their ground for those few seconds against two inner circle Death Eaters. These weren't slightly misguided henchmen like Crabbe and Goyle Senior, but trained, practiced fighters. The metaphor that came to mind was two humans trying to swat at three pesky flies. It was probably only courtesy of Bellatrix's tendency to play with her food before she ate it that they were not all dead already.

When the Order fighters arrived Sirius immediately joined Harry in his duel with Lucius ( _it really was to Harry's credit he had lasted this long by himself_ ) while Lupin and Tonks engaged Bellatrix, who finally had to release her cruciatus' hold on Neville as the now five-to-one odds became more of a challenge for her. Moody raced off down the hall to handle the other Death Eaters. _Well that'll be an easy job when he finds them. Should have had a bit more faith in me after all you put me through this summer._

Hermione remembered her initial objectives and joined Sirius and Harry dueling with Lucius. Sirius had just landed a stunning spell, sending Lucius flying back off the raised mound when Bellatrix managed to break free of the Order members subduing her and cast a bright green _avada_ towards her cousin, whose arms were still raised in a poorly planned celebratory gesture. Hermione knew no spell could shield you from an unforgivable, so she conjured the thickest wooden board she could manage with the rest of her dwindling magical reserves and sent it directly into the pathway of the spell. The spell hit it full on and dissipated with a deafening crack, but the momentum of the explosion shook Sirius footing and he began to fall. Hermione saw it happen as if in slow motion and she had him in the pull of a summoning charm just before his feet disappeared behind the veil. The veil didn't seem to want to release him, but her spell won out and she managed to lay an unconscious (and hopefully not dead) Sirius at Harry's feet. She had no idea what a near fall through the veil would do to a wizard's physiology, but she could sense a faint pulse of his magical signature, so she hoped whatever it was would be reversible.

At that moment two powerful cracks of apparition could be heard and the two most powerful wizards alive faced off in the now very quiet chamber. Harry immediately lunged towards Voldemort, grief-fueled anger smeared across his entire face. Dumbledore took one look at her and the others, issued a stern order to get them to safety, and, with a sweep of his hand, brushed all four of them into a nearby fireplace. A familiar flare of green later, she tumbled out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office and landed in a heap at the feet of the angriest Severus she had ever seen.

The others fell in piles on either side of her and let out various groans as they tried to cope with their physical injuries from the ordeal. She assumed they had realized what was happening, but she couldn't tear her eyes off of the irate face of her furious mentor. He addressed the others, but his eyes never once left Hermione's.

"Mister Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, and Weasleys assorted, get yourselves out of my sight and to the hospital wing immediately. Madame Pomfrey is awaiting your arrival. If you think to set a toe in any other direction you will have my full wrath to contend with. Is. That. Clear. Miss Granger, I would like a word." His crisp voice, however incensed, still brought a lightening feeling to Hermione's chest. Neville, Luna, and Ginny scrambled to their feet and dragged the still-babbling Ron after them.

When the door closed behind them, his voice dropped to a deadly, icy tone, "What were you thinking?"

"I'm sure you knew it was a trap from the second you heard Harry's ham-handed message in Umbridge's office, but what was I supposed to do, let him go alone? You know part of my job is to keep him safe, Severus." Hermione tried for a reasonable, calm, tone, but after the events of the evening her weariness and panic at his anger was beginning to erode her rationality.

"You should not have gone off to face an unknown number of Death Eaters and possibly the Dark Lord himself with only schoolchildren for backup!" Severus' voice had now risen a bit as his rage built.

"What was I supposed to do then?"

"You should not have gone!" Now his voice was resolute, still shaking with rage but controlled as ever.

"What other option did I have?" She felt emotions rising in her chest.

"You should have found one." This was now as petulant as she had ever heard him sound and all the sudden something inside her snapped and her voice took on an icy timbre of its own.

"So do enlighten me, Severus, why it's okay for you to go off night after night to certain torture and I have to sit here on my hands waiting to see if it's the night the Dark Lord finally decides to kill you off, yet I do everything I can to _avoid_ trouble and the one time it doesn't work you get to have a problem with it? That's the way it is?"

She had started off with an even and quiet tone, but by the time she finished she had come perilously close to outright shouting at him.

"Yes, it is." His voice was firm and resolute, as if explaining a very obvious fact to a very small child. His tone did nothing to discourage the slow rage that was slowly building behind Hermione's eyes.

"Oh really?" She was definitely shouting now. "Is it because I'm a female? A student? Some little girl who can't handle herself?"

"No." His voice bounced with obvious irritation now.

"Then what is it that makes me so infinitely inferior to you that you don't trust that I did the best that could be done with the situation I was given? Is it because I'm a _mudblood?_ " She sneered the word like Severus insulting an incompetent first year.

"Goddammit, Hermione, don't use that word in front of me and you know that's nothing to do with it!" He was shouting now too.

"Then what!? Why do you get to be angry at me when you've done the same or worse a hundred times over?"

"Because it's different!" His shouting seemed to lift him out of his chair, his yells thundering across the room and down at her.

"Why?" Her defiant stance didn't change a bit for the solid head he now towered over her.

"Because!" He roared, momentarily consumed in his own rage. "Because…" his voice faltered in search of the right word, but his rage just translated into movement as he strode purposefully across the room at her.

A brief moment of panic flashed through her as she saw him bearing down on her, but when his lips crashed down on hers she immediately met his ferocity with kisses of her own. Her body curved into his as one of his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her lips even tighter to his. His other hand was on her lower back, cementing her body firmly against his. As seconds turned to minutes they were a fierce mash of lips and tongues and nips and a consuming fire that flowed out of his fingertips and across her skin as he pulled her closer to him.

As the kiss went on the rage turned to passion and the kiss slowly gentled, though her body was still sealed against his. His hands wound up her body and he held either side of her face as he slowly pulled away from her lips just far enough to look her straight in the eye.

"Because I care for you." His voice now quiet as he pressed another gentle kiss to her lips. "Because I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

He looked deep into her eyes as he saw the impact of his words register. After a split second of shock he saw a small smile start from her eyes and spread across her face until she seemed to be consumed with a happiness glowing from the inside out. As if unable to stop it, her lips slanted up to his once more.

She kissed him passionately for a few seconds before mumbling against his lips without bothering to stop the kiss, "you know that's still a crap reason, right?" She pressed herself closer to him as she redoubled her attentions to his mouth and heard his deep, velvety laugh reverberate through their joined lips.

"Oh do shut up," he mumbled back, copying her way of speaking without breaking the kiss. It was she who drew back, looking deep into his eyes as he played with a strand of her hair.

"I feel the same way, Severus." His smile grew to mirror hers and was only cut short as she pressed her lips again to his.


	25. 25: The Aftermath

**Chapter 25: The Aftermath**

 **Wow! I knew you guys were excited for them to finally kiss, but your reviews and comments really blew me away. Thank you so much, I am now a slave to checking my email for review notifications. Great. And now, I was very tempted to have Dumbledore walk in on them snogging in his office, but you'll be happy to note that I restrained myself.**

* * *

By the time Albus arrived through the floo, Hermione and Severus had installed themselves onto the sofa in his office with an impressively modest distance between them. Hermione had recounted the episode at the ministry to Severus in great detail. He had expressed his view that she had handled the situation as well as she could have done under the circumstances, but she couldn't help but notice that he winced slightly whenever she mentioned her role in the combat. She did receive the mother of all eyebrow raises when she recounted Dolohov's untimely demise to Severus. She tried to remain stonefaced for as long as possible, but between the adrenaline of the evening and the endorphins remaining from their kiss she broke out into a fit of giggles more in keeping with her fake age than her real one. Instead of his usual sneer, Severus broke out into a full-fledged smile and reached out to tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear. His hand paused on its way back and he grazed her cheek with his thumb. She wasn't giggling anymore. She actually almost leaned over to kiss him again, but something about being in Dumbledore's office made her a little weary.

When they had fully debriefed, they lapsed into a comfortable back and forth, primarily joking about Ron's poor instincts around medically altered brains and each trying to keep the smile from overpowering their self control and erupting onto their face at an inopportune moment.

When Albus came in he looked quite the opposite of the last time she had seen him. When he arrived in the ministry he had been every inch the powerful wizard famed in his reputation, power swirling about him like robes in a windstorm. Now, stepping out of the floo and wiping the soot off his shoulders, he looked every one of his hundred and forty eight years.

Hermione listened from the edge of her seat as Albus told Severus what had transpired after he shoved Hermione and the others into the floo at the ministry. About Voldemort's arrival, their duel, his attempted possession of Harry, and the way Harry's love for Sirius had been able to push Voldemort out of his body. At this point in the story Hermione interrupted, almost before she could help herself.

"What is Sirius' current condition, then?" Albus turned to her as if he had just noticed her presence. When his eyes met hers, she noticed he shed his grandfatherly vibe and, if she wasn't reading it incorrectly, assumed almost a defensive posture, as if she was a threat. With no intonation whatsoever, he did answer her question.

"He remains alive but unconscious. He has been taken to a protected warde in St. Mungo's where the healers have him stabilized. They do not know exactly what is keeping him unconscious, so they have yet to successfully rouse him." He then continued in the same expressionless tone of voice, "and I believe you and I need to have a bit of a talk, Miss Granger."

 _Relegated back to Miss Granger. This can't be a good sign._ At this point Severus rose and made to leave the room, but Albus cut off his retreat immediately.

"Not so fast, Severus. I believe this involves you too. You see, I went to the Ministry to try to save a group of foolish schoolchildren from a group of well trained Death Eaters. By the time I got there I found two had been stunned, one eaten by a carnivorous brain suspiciously far from its tank, two had fallen through the veil, five were stunned and bound, lying in a neat row, and one seemed to be missing a large part of his upper torso and his entire head. No spellwork above a fourth year level was used, but the efficiency and thoroughness with which they were dispatched leads me to believe that you two have been keeping something from me."

It was all she could do to keep from glancing at Severus to see his reaction. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the fact that she knew he would allow his face absolutely no visible reaction to these allegations whatsoever. His response, when it came, was slow, calm, and measured.

"Headmaster, I believe our deal stated that if any of the three came to me asking for assistance I was allowed to prepare them adequately for what was to come." His cool black eyes seemed to war silently with Albus' blue ones. The usual twinkle was nowhere to be seen.

"It seems you've done more than just prepare her, Severus!" She had never heard Albus Dumbledore lose his cool before. She had also never heard anyone shout at Severus before. It was truly to be a night of firsts. "You'd have to be a bloody Valkyrie to evade that number of Death Eaters, protect four innocent children, and use no dark or high level curses in the process! I gave you permission to prepare them if they asked, not to turn a schoolgirl into a weapon."

Severus' face contorted into the most terrifying, feral smile she had ever seen. His eyes were filled with a smug, self-satisfied, pride, but his lips were full of so much malice that, had they not been ravaging her own not an hour earlier, she would have had to fight the urge to flee in terror. _I am so glad he's on our side._

"A weapon, Albus, is exactly what we need to win this war. An efficient, well-trained, highly disciplined soldier with the will and the skill to get the job done. Hermione is that weapon. She safeguarded your boy wonder on another one of his misguided escapades into heroics and got everyone involved back in one piece. I feel no remorse whatsoever for giving her the knowledge that kept her alive tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, I will surely be summoned at some point in time this evening and I'd like to be prepared for it."

With that, he made a brief eye contact with Hermione, cast a flickering glance at her watch, and proceeded to billow from the room in true potion master style, leaving Hermione and the headmaster in the thickest of awkward silences.

After a long pause, she looked up to meet his eyes and felt the full force of a legilimency attack. Severus had trained her well. Her entry visual reflected back a perfect copy of the room they were currently in, including a detailed representation of the headmaster himself. She could feel him bouncing around in her mind like a caged and increasingly dangerous wild animal. When she felt sure he knew he wasn't able to get past her defenses, she immediately shifted her visual to the inky black waters of the deepest ocean, her second level occlumency defense.

She technically did not need to shift her visual, seeing as he was unable to get past her initial shield, but while he was involuntarily invading her mind, she figured she may as well put on a bit of a show. The waters were deep and black, no light penetrating the water to give him any sight, just the sloshing and dull roar of the underwater currents. When she felt him still, she switched to her third visualization, which was nothing at all. Just a white expanse in every direction. No discernable point where floor turned to wall or sky, just an unending expanse of white.

She held this just long enough to feel Albus' mind-self begin to panic slightly, at which point she gave him what she assumed he was looking for, a replay of the evening's events in the ministry. When she finally pushed him out of her mind completely, maybe a bit too hard, he slouched down into a chair. She looked down at him, surprised at how easily she managed a complete Slytherin mask of indifference. It definitely got easier with practice.

When Albus spoke again, he had deflated back into the weary old man that had clambered through the floo minutes before.

"How old are you, Hermione?"

She tilted her head and looked deep into his eyes, trying to discern his intent, but when she found no malice in his face she softened her posture and answered precisely, "I turned twenty at four fifteen last Friday afternoon."

His posture slumped further, "I believe my Deputy is then in the loop on your and Severus' little project?"

"Yes, Headmaster," she said as dutifully as would have been expected had she been a normal fifth year standing in the headmaster's office. "Minerva, Poppy, Severus, and Alastor all contributed to my training. Without it tonight would have gone very badly."

She saw him nod slowly as he listened to how many of his senior teachers had been involved in training her against his wishes and without his knowledge. After an extended pause he seemed to finally admit defeat and sat down on the edge of his desk to stroke the newly-reincarnated baby Fawkes. He spoke again, but without taking his eyes off the bird in front of him.

"You can stop it with the Headmaster nonsense, Hermione. Apparently we are far more equal than I realized," another pregnant pause, "just be careful not to reveal yourself until the moment is right. And let me know if there's any way I can help further your training."

She nodded once and walked purposefully out the door to meet the waiting Severus in his sitting room. She knew from a glance at her watch that he would be waiting for her.

* * *

She got in to find Severus making tea in the adjoining kitchen. When he heard the door shut he came out with a tray carrying only one cup. She looked it and tilted her head inquisitively.

"I'm not joining you. If what Dumbledore said was true, that everyone but Bellatrix who was involved in the raid has been taken into custody I'm sure to be summoned any minute, but you, my dear, deserve some tea. Was the old codger too hard on you?"

Hermione smiled and slid her fingers over his as she took the proffered cup of tea. "Not after that speech of yours. Well, that and a legilimency probe, but I'm sure you expected that. Anyway, I seem to have passed his tests. After I showed him a few levels of my occlumency shields and a greatest hits reel of the evening he even offered to help if I needed anything." He smiled and seemed to fight back a laugh.

"That's good. He has a slightly different method of legilimency than I do, so I thought it might behoove you to practice your occlumency with him, if you were so inclined. As for other skills, he's much too partial to theatrical displays of offensive magic for my tastes, but his shields are unmatched, so any trade secrets you can pry out of him would be greatly appreciated. He's always played those fairly close to the cuff with me, can't imagine why, and he has some innovations I wouldn't mind trying."

Hermione laughed at how quickly Severus got down to business. He understood her meaning and looked as abashed as Severus ever did, then seemed to take the first step toward her before changing his mind and walking back behind his desk.

"I would like to finish what we were… discussing when you first got back, but I need to keep my occlumency shields in place for the Dark Lord. You can go to the hospital wing to check on your friends for now. The Dark Lord knows Dumbledore will be watching me closely and usually has me back at a reasonable hour under such circumstances. If you could take a second pass at the time and be back here around midnight, I would enjoy...finishing our conversation." A flash of heat she hadn't seen before passed over his dark eyes. "There are things to discuss."

She was about to agree, but before she could open her mouth his right hand flew to clasp his left forearm as a grimace crossed over his face. She nodded and summoned his Death Eater cloak from his desk. Standing on tip toes to pull it around his shoulders, she let her hands linger on the clasp by his neck. She glanced up at his face and saw only stone as he slammed his shields up. She took a deep breath and stepped back.

"Be safe. I'll be here when you get back."

He nodded once and was out the door. She waited a minute to let him get a head start before heading out the portrait hole for the hospital wing.

* * *

When she got there, Ginny and Luna had apparently already been released. Ron and Neville were both breathing the deep, slow breaths of someone under the influence of a heavy batch of dreamless sleep. When she turned to find Harry, she found him awake and sitting on the bed in his striped pajamas, holding his knees to his chest and looking every bit like the frightened eleven year old she had seen in the aftermath of his bout with Quirrell in first year. Only something was different this time. Something heavy in his eyes unsettled her, like his worldview had taken a nastier beating than his physical body.

"I didn't want to take the potion," he said as if it wasn't a non sequitur.

"Why not? You could probably use the rest." She approached him meekly, as one would approach a wounded animal.

"I wanted to wait for you to get here. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me anything, but I heard him and Moody talking. I heard your name. And I saw the way you saved Sirius from...well it could have been...and I know you were the one to get those Death Eaters." There was a giant, unexplained, heavy pause in which she could hear Harry's brain practically whirring as it tried to come up with the words he needed.

"it's all my fault. I thought I could go by myself and save Sirius and be back before dinner. I almost got everyone I care about killed. I still don't know if Sirius will wake up. And if you hadn't been there it would have been even worse. I can't believe I thought I could…" His voice trailed off into a miserable silence. She wanted to comfort him, but his words were actually spot on and this misery was necessary as a transformative force. Harry had some growing up to do, so she waited in silence.

"Hermione, tell me what's going on. What's actually going on. I know you know, and I know I've been a prat, but...I'm ready. I'll listen now. Tell me what to do."

She looked into his face and saw nothing but honest desire, desperation, and a scared little boy with the world on his shoulders hoping beyond hope that he still had one person in whom he could place his faith. And so she told him.

* * *

"Snape. For a year now. And Ron and I had no idea." Harry's voice was incredulous, his poor head just trying to piece the facts together.

"Actually, it's been a little more than three years for me," she answered gently.

"Right. Because of the time turner. And you like him?" She had to stifle a blush as she reminded herself that he just meant 'like' in the 'don't consider to be a greasy git anymore' sense of the word.

"He's brilliant, Harry. He's the reason we're all alive, several times over, in fact. He's been a wonderful mentor to me and he deserves your respect." Harry's face flinched almost involuntarily, but she was pleased to see him suppress it decently fast. _Maybe there's hope for you yet._

"That's going to take a bit to settle in, you know?" He sounded more like himself than he had in a long time. "And the prophecy? It's really me that's got to kill him?"

She knew he was looking for a way out, but if he was truly interested in the truth that was the last thing she could give him. He needed facts, not comfort.

"Yes, according to the prophecy you cast the final spell, but it says nothing about the preceding nine hundred spells, so don't go getting a big head." He seemed not to realize she was joking until her friendly elbow in the ribs brought the first smile she had seen on his face since they returned.

"Ow!" he rubbed his ribs in an exaggerated gesture. Pausing to let a thought develop, he tilted his head. "So you've been training to be some kind of ninja witch and basically an auror for the last three years. That's why you were so fit when you came back from summer holiday. You were two years older than we thought you were and had basically been in boot camp the entire time."

Hermione nodded quietly while Harry obviously entertained another thought.

"Hermione?" His voice was meek and questioning.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm not going to have to train with Professor Snape, am I?"

Hermione laughed out loud and jostled Harry with her shoulder. "You most certainly will, but unlike your occlumency lessons I'll be right there next to you to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Harry began with a laugh, but it was stifled by the reality of what she had said. He replied with a solemn and resolute tone in his voice.

"Thanks. After tonight I think that's what I need most of all." Another lengthy pause stretched over them.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thanks."

"Any time, Harry."


	26. 26: The Talk

**Chapter 26: The Talk**

 **So this was supposed to be plot, plot, plot, but Severus was feeling a bit neglected, so that will have to wait until next chapter. I regret nothing. *giggles***

* * *

In the aftermath of the episode at the Ministry, Hermione's days lapsed into a predictable pattern once more. She spend the first turn of each day practically glued to the side of the new Harry. Since the Ministry he had gone through a very uncomfortable eye opening process, in which his faith in Dumbledore, his own abilities, and the basic sense of safety with which most children don't have to part until much, much later were simultaneously torn from him. In the place of these basic certainties it seemed that Hermione had become a cross between a friend and a therapy guide dog. She stayed with Harry most waking hours and, when he had questions or thoughts that troubled him she helped him think them through, provided him with the information that Dumbledore had been depriving him about what was actually happening in the war, and occasionally provided a buffer when Ron became too much. The redhead had, much to Harry's disquiet, adapted to what had happened by unleashing his inner-Fred (or inner-George) and joked far more often, at much too inopportune moments, and much louder than made either Harry or Hermione comfortable.

Each night after they pretended to go to sleep, Hermione and Harry would sneak back down to the common room and Harry began learning occlumency in earnest. He read the books Hermione gave him without complaint, had obviously done a great deal of independent practice on the exercises she suggested for him, and within a week had made more progress than the rest of the year combined. Hermione felt bad for deceiving Ron, but the new focus in Harry's eyes as they broadened their nightly study sessions to include military strategy and advanced defense tactics was more than enough reassurance to continue.

After Hermione finished with Harry and sent the yawning future savior of the wizarding world off to bed, she was free to flip back to the same time the previous evening and go see Severus.

She had begun this pattern when she flipped back after her time with Harry in the hospital wing. As he requested, she had returned to midnight the night of the ministry and had been waiting rather impatiently in their shared living room, unread book resting in her lap, listening for any sounds in the fake entry rooms outside.

By the time Severus arrived she had worked herself into such a state of worry at what might be happening to him at the wand of an angry Dark Lord that when he finally came through the door he hadn't even gotten his cloak off before his arms were full of anxious witch. In his thirty seven years he had exactly no experience with witches launching themselves into his arms, so it was by the grace of Merlin that he managed to overlook his battle-hardened reflexes and allow her to reach him. However, once he felt her steel arms lock around his waist, after a moment of very un-Severus uncertainty, he felt his own arms come around her and allowed himself to bury his face in her ridiculous mess of hair.

After both of their heart rates began to return to normal, she mumbled something into his chest, but he couldn't make it out, so he gently disentangled himself from her surprisingly-strong grip with a deep chuckle and led her over to the sofa by the fire. Sitting side by side, she tried again.

"You don't seem harmed?" Her voice showed more worry than factual doubt.

"No, but I can't say the same for poor Bellatrix. It was her idea for the Dark Lord to leave me out of her and Lucius' little mission tonight, but her lack of trust in me, when combined with her spectacular failure, had the delightful consequence of strengthening the Dark Lord's idea that I am the only one of his followers that is, in fact, both competent and trustworthy." He ended with a smirk.

"Well we'll have to owl her a fruit basket, won't we?" Hermione tried to joke, the worry not leaving her eyes.

"I'll see to it first thing in the morning," he said with a small smile, bringing his fingers up to her worried face and stroking her cheek. "You can relax now. The danger is done, we have both arrived back at the castle in one piece, and if I'm not allowed to worry when you galavant around dueling death eaters you surely should extend me the same courtesy."

She gave him a strained smile indicating that he had a point but communicating more of a 'what can I do' type of sentiment, eliciting another velvety chuckle.

"I assume Mr. Potter is in working order?" he asked, trying to change the topic to one that would worry her less.

"It seems the near death of everyone he cares about combined with an attempted possession by the Dark Lord has achieved what months of my haranguing couldn't quite manage to accomplish." Her face shifted to one of beleaguered surprise.

"He hasn't finally seen the light, has he?" Severus' sarcasm matched her own.

"He has indeed. Even asked to train with you." An eyebrow rose. "Well, asked if he would have to train with you." The eyebrow returned to its normal position and Severus laughed once more. Something about his laugh brought about a resplendent smile from Hermione's face. He couldn't help but meet her eyes, at which point all the air seemed to leave the room. Her smile faltered as her heart began thumping so loudly she would have wondered if he could hear it if she had any oxygen going to her brain to fuel such thoughts.

He leaned in and covered her mouth with his, fisting his hands in her irascible hair. She mewled into his mouth as she leaned into him, her prestigious brain, for a change, thinking absolutely nothing. She sunk into his kiss and surrendered to the butterflies that had somehow turned to blast ended scroots in her stomach, but just as she was getting accustomed to the blissful nirvana that was Severus' kiss, she felt his lips pull away. Confused, she opened her eyes, which she didn't even remember deciding to close, and sought answers in his face.

"We have to talk about this, Hermione." His voice, still clouded with a gravelly tone she had only heard last night, jolted her back to rational thought. She stood to put a few paces between them and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

"Right. Well, I'm not exactly my own age…" she began.

"...but you are still my student and apprentice," he finished.

"... and the best friend of Harry Potter," she added gloomily.

"... and a Gryffindor," he said with a mock shudder.

"Whereas you're supposedly twenty years my senior," she stated, emphasizing the word _supposedly_ as she leaned against an end table.

"... and a Death Eater," he said, standing up to mirror her position.

"... who spends an increasing amount of time around a murderous and psychopathic legilimens who believes my kind is a vermin infestation to be exterminated," she finished with a morose finality.

"So there's really no safe way for us…" he trailed off, his tone an eerie parallel to his socratic questions in class.

"Not really, no." She met his eyes and tenaciously held his gaze. She saw his Adam's apple move as if fighting the urge to swallow.

"So it's decided then. We can't risk everything just for our own selfish…" his words faded away again as he pushed himself away from the table upon which he had been leaning.

She took a step closer to him, "No, it would be at the least foolish, if not outright dangerous."

Without breaking eye contact he found himself standing within arms reach of the determined, young witch, "Then that's all there is to say on the matter?"

Tension crackled through the air like sparks. She found herself breathing heavier than normal, despite the fact that she was standing quite still. Standing quite still less than a foot from her and staring down at her with an intensity that suddenly made her very aware of the blood pulsing through her body. She stared up into his dark eyes as the moment stretched on.

In the same instant, the tension reached an unsustainable level and they simultaneously jolted forward to close the gap between them. A hand found the hair on the back of her head, securing her lips against his, while the other looped around her waist, pulling their bodies tighter together. Her arms wound themselves around his neck as she ravaged his lips with her own, enjoying the closeness of their bodies in some backroom of her brain.

For once in her life, Hermione Granger wasn't thinking about a million things at once. She wasn't second guessing her technique or trying to recall research. She was, finally, well and truly absorbed in the moment, just relishing his lips on hers and the feeling of his hands on her skin. The war around them faded away and, if for that moment only, life was good.

* * *

Severus sat on the sofa in his sitting room in what he was sure was the most pleasant state of shock he had ever experienced. Even as he sat, mind still running a mile a minute, let couldn't help but smile as he looked down at his hand slowly running through the golden tangles of the witch sound asleep with her head in his lap.

He had been mildly shocked that he had survived an extended meeting with the Dark Lord without images of his kiss with Hermione bubbling out of his occlumency shields. He had known he was attracted to her since the conversation he had had with Frick the day Hermione came of age, but for as long as he could he had just chalked it up to a passing fascination due to prolonged contact. Bound to happen, nothing to worry about, and it would pass naturally with time. It didn't. It got far worse with every minute he spent with her. He had succumbed to the idea that his feelings for her were real and not just a superficial attraction the first time she healed him after a particularly rough meeting with the Dark Lord, but it was the first time she beat him in a duel that he could no longer deny the truth: he loved her.

He loved her pensive half smile as she figured out a complex problem. He loved her neat, little handwriting. He loved her stacks of books that had long since invaded his sitting room. He loved her keen mind and her big heart. He loved her ambition and her compassion. He loved her. Severus Snape loved Hermione Granger.

And for that reason he had been so utterly screwed. He knew that nothing could possibly happen between them for a myriad of reasons, but that was of no importance because there was no way in Merlin's Kingdom that she would ever feel anything other than friendship and academic respect towards the slimy bat of the dungeons. And then she kissed him back.

He had spent the entire walk back from the apparition point thinking of how to tell her it wasn't a good idea for them to cross the boundaries of propriety, but the second he walked in the door and she launched herself at him he realized that he was powerless to resist her. He had done far worse things for crumbs of affection from those who were only interested in using him, so if this witch would have him then Merlin be damned if he was going to pass up the opportunity.

He wasn't sure if her feelings matched his, but, as their kissing faded to talking and they sat down on the sofa, she lay her head down in his lap and held on to his hand as the pauses in their conversation got longer and longer. She was now fully asleep, yet somehow maintained a grip on his hand so strong he didn't think he could break it if he wanted to. Whatever would happen would happen. For once in his life he was going to claim something for himself, and, if for that moment only, life was good.


	27. 27: Meet the Parents

**Chapter 27: Meet the Parents**

 **Quick author-y note before we get back to it...so as of Monday I'm starting my PhD program. I'm going to try my very best to keep to my once a week posting schedule, but please forgive me if I miss a week here or there. Between my job, a one-year-old, a preteen, a house full of dog fur, and now school it will be quite busy around here. I promise I will not abandon you guys or this story, but it might be a tad less frequent. (I'll try never to go longer than two weeks. *girl scout salute*) Just a note, if you do feel the urge to prod me to write faster, I respond better to humor than howlers.**

 **And with that out of the way, on with the plot!**

* * *

It was early the morning before they would be leaving Hogwarts for the summer while Hermione and Severus were having their post-training cup of tea that Hermione spoke, breaking their companionable silence.

"I've been thinking about my parents."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"I think they need to leave England until the war is over. After what happened at the ministry, the Death Eaters can't just ignore my involvement with Harry. And what better target than the muggles that spawned the muggleborn friend of the chosen one? The only problem is they wouldn't just pick up and leave, and I can only think of bad ways to force them." Hermione finished with a sigh.

"Bad ways...such as?" The eyebrow got even higher. Hermione giggled.

"I'm getting pretty good at mind magic. I could make them forget I existed and instill in them a vehement desire to move somewhere remote like Australia." Any higher and the eyebrow risked disappearing under Severus' dark hair.

"Hey," Hermione raised her hands in mock surrender, "I said it was a bad idea!" She resumed giggling and Severus allowed his facade of scepticism to melt as he joined her.

"I actually have been making some preparations for their relocation, but I hadn't found a time to broach the topic with you, what with your running off to save the world and all." It was Hermione's turn to attempt the patented Snape eyebrow raise. He immediately saw what she was trying to do and shook his head at her in mock disapproval, eliciting another brief giggle and a shrug as she reached for another biscuit.

"So what have you been planning then? And for how long have you been plotting without my knowledge?"

"Not plotting so much as putting puzzle pieces together. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but since the termination of his teaching contract with Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has been residing at Grimmauld Place." Hermione nodded. She had run into him a few times over the summer. "Well, since the dementor attack last summer I have been telling Albus that, no matter how much I personally would love to shove him in a cupboard, it wasn't safe for Potter to return to that family of his. A morbidly obese muggle cousin does not good protection make. Albus was not fond of the idea of moving him, but I finally managed to convince him to let Potter spend the holiday with Lupin and Black in the headquarters."

Hermione tipped her head slightly, "you're going to hate to hear this, but telling Harry that you secured him an escape from the Dursleys might almost make him like you," Severus gave a theatrical shiver as Hermione smirked, "but what does this have to do with my parents?"

"Well, as Black is currently serving time as a 200 pound paperweight in St. Mungos," he ignored Hermione's scowl at his less-than-charitable description of a magical coma, "that leaves Lupin as the only full-time resident of Grimmauld Place. This wouldn't bother Potter, but with Lupin's monthly...episodes, it would leave Potter without supervision far more often that I think any of us should be comfortable."

Hermione rolled her eyes in begrudging agreement, "then whom have they drafted as babysitter…" She stopped with a lurch when she saw the look of utter loathing on his face, "you have got to be kidding me!" His deadpan persisted. "You, Severus? Albus Dumbledore thinks that it is a good idea to leave you, the only remaining conscious Marauder, except for Pettigrew who doesn't count as conscious whether he's awake or not, and Harry Bloody Potter alone in a house for three months."

"Well, not exactly. You see, the headmaster was also concerned for your safety as well…." Severus paused, his face expressionless. On one hand, he could hardly expect Hermione to be excited about being the female fourth wheel to the most ill-fitted sausagefest in the wizarding world, but on the other hand, it meant that they would get to continue seeing each other over the summer. He wanted to judge her reaction because, though he was quite certain of his feelings for her, he had yet to diagnose just how she felt about him. However, after a split second, he realized that his nerves on the subject had been wasted as Hermione broke into an ear-to-ear grin that transformed her entire face. She beamed so hard he feared her face would burst for a few seconds but, after taking a look at what must surely look like amusement on his face, quickly made a failing attempt at schooling her features.

"Ah, so we'll both be living in Headquarters this summer. That's lovely, I suppose." Her attempt at nonchalance was about as successful as one of Longbottom's potions, and she punctuated her sentence with a cat that got the cream smirk. After spending enough time just grinning at each other to make him feel like a besotted schoolboy (yet somehow not enough time to satisfy the tight feeling in his chest), he broke eye contact by moving to refill her cup of tea.

"So, with me at Headquarters or Hogwarts, it leaves my extremely well-warded house empty and available as a safe house for your parents." Hermione's shock was written across her face.

"Your house? Like, the one you live in?"

"No, this is the house in which I store my excess cheeseburgers. I live in my other estate as it has far larger stables for my flock of golden peacocks. Yes, the house I live in."

Either Hermione had become immune from his sarcasm or he was losing his touch, as she barely blinked. Actually, he thought to himself, maybe she was still in shock.

"But, Severus, isn't that incredibly...personal? I mean, you would really let them live there? Why?" Her honest and searching eyes made him break character and pass up this easy prey for a sarcastic retort. Instead, he grabbed her hand and caught her eyes in a deep glance that, once more, seemed to suck all of the air out of the room.

"I thought I had made it clear how I felt about you, Hermione. I will never let anything bad happen to you, and if that means your parents are forced to reside in the filthy hellhole in which I was raised, then may Merlin have mercy on their souls, but it doesn't bother me."

Hermione let go of his hand and slowly rose from her chair, depositing her tea on the table but never letting her eyes stray from his. She walked over to his chair and very smoothly dropped a forceful kiss onto his lips, her hands winding into the hair on the back of his head. He managed to wandlessly send his tea to the table behind her in order to free his hands, which he then used to pull her just off balance enough that she fell into his lap. It didn't seem to deter her from her mission.

* * *

"So you really want to be the one to explain this to them?" Hermione asked nervously as they approached her house at a brisk walk from the apparition point.

"It is in the base dynamics of familial relations, at least good ones, that they will not see you as an adult no matter how grown you become or how many times over you could help them into oblivion. You will always, on some level, be their little girl. Me, however, they will accept as a peer. All you will need to do is use your influence to lend me credibility. They will trust your judgment about me, even if they still see you in pigtails."

Hermione nodded. She never thought she'd be approaching her childhood home as if it was a mission or some kind of training exercise, but the way Severus had questioned her about her parents and the way they had run through each step of the plan was not unlike the way they approached a situation in the modified pensive. The plan was to have her and Severus apparate her parents and shrunken trunks carrying anything they wanted to take with them directly to Spinner's End, have her stay with them to help them get settled. (He had given her permission and almost urged her to change anything and everything about the interior decoration of the house, saying that, in his words "I've been counting down the days until I could take a match to that place anyway, so you might as well let them make it their own".)

He would return to their (now empty) house, destroy it with fiendfire (rendering everything unrecognizable), cast the Dark Mark above it, patch together a memory of her parents' gruesome deaths (a feat that made Hermione shiver to think what he must have witnessed to be able to make a convincing false memory to fool the Dark Lord), and would bring the memory to the Dark Lord as a gift. Hermione had protested that this was too dangerous, but he had insisted that he had done similar things before, that it would help strengthen his status as the Dark Lord's most competent servant, and that if the Dark Lord wanted them dead, a simple disappearance would not do the trick.

With a begrudging Hermione in tow, he rang the doorbell to her house.

* * *

"...so you see, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, the only way to ensure your safety and that of your daughter is for you two to go into hiding until the Dark Lord has been neutralized." Severus had woven a masterful explanation, but as Hermione looked from her mother's face to her father's she saw shock, a little fear, and, most worryingly of all, she saw the gerbil beginning to sprint on the little wheel inside her mother's mind. _This can't be good._ Hermione watched her mother as she obviously processed quite a big thought. When she finally spoke, it was with a tone that reminded Severus quite of Hermione when she had come to a conclusion but had yet to share it with him.

"Hermione, this man comes into our house telling stories of genocidal wars and mad tyrants. Are you saying we should believe him and abandon our entire lives on his word alone?" Hermione felt her mother's gaze burning into her. She stole a brief glance at Severus, whose face revealed nothing, but she could see from the slight tension in his posture and the slight protrusion of the vein on his neck that he was slightly worried about this point in the plan. Apparently presenting the Dark Lord with manufactured memories of a murder that didn't take place was quite simple, but reasoning with two muggle dentists was quite a challenge. For the briefest of moments she felt a rush of affection for him. For what he was doing for her family, for the risks he took to keep them all safe, for the fact that he was hers, for him in general, but she kept her mind focused and looked back at her mother with all the sincerity she could muster.

"Yes, mum. I am. I trust him with my life and you should too."

At thais point, Helen Granger tipped her head slightly to the side and turned her penetrating gaze to Severus and back to Hermione. "Interesting," she said quietly, almost to herself. Apparently this was not the reaction her husband was expecting, as he whipped his head over to his wife with such force Hermione would have giggled if the situation were less grave. Helen put her hand on his knee as if to calm him. It didn't quite calm his facial features, but he did slump slightly in the universally recognized posture of a man who knew when he was beat. He looked at her with inquisitive eyes and consternation written all over his face. She shot him a reassuring smile and nodded slightly.

"So," she turned to Hermione, "are you going to make us pack the muggle way or are you two going to help?"

* * *

Hermione had gone ahead with her father and was already inside Spinner's End, hopefully casting some strong cleaning charms over every available surface and vanishing every inch of the Merlin damned wallpaper. Severus had just finished shrinking the beautiful grand piano that had adorned their entryway and depositing it carefully into one of his coat pockets. He looked to find Helen, who had been doing one final walk through of the empty house to make sure there was nothing they had missed, when he saw her just standing on the stairs, staring what would appear to be a hole straight through him. Had he not been Severus Snape, feared Death Eater whose scowl sent first years scattering for cover, he might just have been intimidated by the mousy woman. Even as such, he felt a slight bubble of unease float across his abdomen. Trying to reassert some shred of dominance, he raised an eyebrow at her. She sent back a very familiar smirk and raised both of hers in return. Severus tilted his head slightly in concession, in the same chivalrous manner an old fashioned man would avert his eyes when opening the door for a lady.

She came down the stairs as if their silent interchange hadn't happened and declared a little too loudly, "well, that appears to be everything. Literally." She took a brief look around the house and swallowed what surely would have been emotions had she allowed them to surface. Having seen Hermione disapparate before, she grabbed Severus' arm, looked up at him, and nodded resolutely.

When they reappeared in the once-grimy entryway of Spinner's End (Hermione had wasted no time cleaning what appeared to be every visible surface including the ceiling, changing paint colors, and even, apparently, conjuring a light oak set of hardwood floors), Helen accepted the tiny shrunken parcel of all of her worldly possessions. However, before Severus could retract his hand she retained a firm grasp on his arm. His head jerked down to her face for an explanation, and he was fixed with the same determined look he had seen that first night in his rooms after the Triwizard Tournament, coming from an eerily similar set of chocolatey brown eyes.

"You take care of my daughter. You hear me?"

"Always."

She held his gaze for a moment then nodded once, let go of his arm, and walked into the rest of the house to join her husband and daughter without another word or a backwards glance. It was Severus who had to take a small moment to collect himself before apparating back to the Granger residence.


	28. 28: Back to Grimmauld Place

**Chapter 28: Back to Grimmauld Place**

 **Hark, another chapter! I was so moved by all the support you guys gave me for my attempt to do too many things at once (I swear that I could get so much done if I had Hermione's time turner), so I made the extra effort to get a chapter out for you this week. Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think of the newest character I bring in. I have some questions about his role, but I'll wait to see what you guys think first.**

* * *

Harry launched himself at Hermione, almost knocking her over when he crashed into her with a bone-crunching hug.

"You mean I really don't have to go back to the Dursleys'?" he asked hopefully into her mess of hair. For a brief second she didn't see the almost-man Harry had become, but heard his question coming from the mouth of the scared 11 year-old who had first confided in her the horrible treatment he had received at home until he escaped to Hogwarts. Not entirely she could speak without letting her emotion show through in her voice, she shook her head and felt her best friend's embrace tighten slightly. She held him until they both regained their composure and, when Harry finally pulled away, let her heart be warmed by the brilliant grin on his face.

"So Remus will pick us up from King's Cross when we get off the express. We'll apparate together. Now there is one problem…" Hermione drifted off, not knowing quite how to phrase the problem that was Ron in a manner that wasn't terribly indelicate. Sure, Ron had been acting a prat since the battle at the ministry, but he was still Harry's first friend and she didn't want to insult him.

"What do we tell the great, ginger overreactor?" Harry intoned in a voice so dry Hermione wondered why he and Severus didn't get along better. She let out an involuntary snort of surprise and nodded. Harry sighed the sigh of someone resigned to an unpleasant truth.

"He will need to know you're there, but I'd prefer he not spend all summer stewing about us spending time together without him. So maybe we can just let him think that I'm having a holiday with my parents."

Harry nodded, "and what do we do if he wants to come with me?"

It was a realistic possibility that he would make the offer to spend the summer with Harry. However, while Ron would view it as a summer to themselves in which they could goof off with only Remus for supervision, Harry was depending on this summer to catch up on the combat training, strategy, and extra studies that Hermione had been doing for years now. Hermione gulped. Here came the tricky part.

"You might not like it, but I do have one thing that will make Ron quite happy to go back to the burrow and leave us to our summer."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. She tried to remain expressionless, but after a few seconds his shoulders slumped and he let out a huff of breath.

"I should have guessed. He's not going to murder me in my sleep, is he?" Hermione let out a relieved laugh.

"Not unless you hog the blankets," she said with an evil side glance at Harry, who looked confused for a split second before comprehension dawned and then ran in quick succession through the various states of horrified, disgusted, smacking Hermione's arm, and devolving into quite realistic feigned dry heaves. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic performance.

"Seriously, though, I know we don't have the best history. I'm trying to, erm, how did you phrase it...pull my head out? But is there any way you could keep him from, you know, baiting me? I don't...I mean…" he trailed off with such desperation she couldn't help but take pity on him. Harry was trying so hard lately and it was hard for her not to almost feel a maternal fondness for him when he got flustered like that. She looped an arm around his shoulders and started leading him back to the great hall for their last dinner of the term.

"I'll do my best, but if he does torment you, just consider it Weasley repellent."

* * *

Hermione was staring out of the window while the boys made frantic, last-minute attempts to get all of their things together when all the sudden she saw something by the black lake that made her spine go suddenly rigid. Her mind whirring furiously as she replayed one of her first conversations with Severus over again in her head. She made her excuses to the boys, telling them that she'd forgotten to look up something at the library and that she'd meet them by the train. She could tell Harry wasn't fooled, but she met his subtle head tilt with a quick shake of her head and made a hasty exit, breaking into a sprint the second the door closed behind her.

Grateful for her training and the fact that she had kept running every other morning (for her) over the course of the term, she was barely breathing hard when she slowed to a walk at the spot where she had seen the flair of unaccompanied blonde. She heard what sounded like a combination of a cough and a sob come from behind a large boulder near the edge of the water. She slowly approached and when she rounded the bend to see what was behind she was met with a storm of expletives.

"Bloody, buggering, Merlin, Granger. Leave me the fuck alone. Even you must be able to tell when you're not wanted?"

His usual drawl was slightly off as his voice was still slightly clouded with the remaining vestiges of the emotion he had clearly been experiencing before she came up, but the visceral anger and vitriol with which he usually treated her was still there. However, a lot had changed and Hermione was now quite accustomed to the most subtle and secretive wizard on the face of the planet, the king of snakes, as it were. The angry outbursts of a tiny adler like Draco Malfoy could no longer fool Hermione Granger.

She plopped down on the cold rocks next to him, saying nothing, and mirrored his posture, sitting with her legs curled up to her chest, her arms around her bent legs, and her chin resting on her knees while she looked out over the lake.

"Sod it all, Granger. You really can't tell where not to stick your nose, can you? Bugger off!" Some of the angry facade was starting to fall off, but Hermione still waited in silence, staring out at the lake without saying a word or responding to his taunts. After a few minutes of absolute silence, other than the small ripples of water against the shore, she saw his shoulders slump down in defeat as she won their unspoken standoff.

"Fine, Granger. What do you want?" His tone was a mix between begrudging curiosity and the desperation in which he had clearly been wallowing when she initially arrived. She could tell he was still tense, waiting for her to lash out at him to rub in whatever was troubling him, as he was emitting the same energy as a caged and cornered wild animal. She spoke evenly, in the same tone one might use to address said animal. Neither had made eye contact yet, instead staring out over the lake as they spoke.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened to your father." She could have sworn the sound of Draco's eyes rolling could be heard from the castle.

"Right. And I'm studying to be a unicorn tamer." Hermione huffed out a breath of amusement. She responded, not taking her eyes of the lake.

"Seriously, Draco. I mean it. I'm not sorry he didn't hurt Harry and I'm not sorry he didn't get what he was there for, but I'm sorry for what happened to your family. You don't deserve that." She continued staring forward as if they were having a discussion about the weather. Draco's incredulity was dripping off his voice as he responded.

"Like you care about what happens to a Death Eater like me." To Draco's surprise, Hermione's face broke into a small smile.

"Actually, there's nothing on that arm of yours but embarrassingly pale skin," she said nonchalantly as if commenting on a mistake he'd made in potions class.

"You know what I mean, Granger. My choice was made for me before I was even born. For you to sit here uninvited and argue semantics-" She cut him off and turned to look him in the eye with an intensity he hadn't seen before.

"You still have a choice. Make a good one, Draco." He would have argued, but something about the intense, almost wild look in her eye silenced him before he even started. He surveilled her while she stared him down. If he hadn't been the son of Lucius Malfoy, and thus quite accustomed to intimidating glares, he would have felt like a small mouse being watched by a large predator. After an undetermined period of time she suddenly nodded her head, stood up, and began brushing off her pants. She stretched briefly and addressed him again in the friendly, offhand manner he usually heard her use towards the younger students of other houses.

"Well, enjoy the holiday. And do try to get some sun." She giggled as if it was a long-running inside joke between the two of them and walked away leaving him alone with his thoughts and her words ringing in his head.

* * *

That afternoon, after a painfully awkward train ride of Ron detailing every prank he planned to pull on his brothers over the holiday and not noticing that, for a change, both Harry and Hermione were both trying to tune him out while reading, they arrived at King's Cross and parted ways with the Weasley clan to meet Remus and progress to the apparition point.

Hermione tried to turn away as Harry and Lupin hugged, for the first time since Sirius' injury, and both teared up a bit. After the overly manly compensatory back pats had concluded, they made their way to Grimmauld place.

Harry and Hermione hadn't gotten their trunks halfway down the hall before a familiar swoosh of black robes appeared behind them. Both of their hearts suddenly raced, but for very different reasons. Severus gave Hermione a brief nod and stepped up to Harry, silently looking the young wizard straight in the eye. It only took Hermione a second to realize that he was testing Harry's occlumency shields. She saw Harry's posture stiffen a few seconds later as he came to the same conclusion.

The seconds drug on as Hermione prayed Harry's newly redoubled efforts, combined with her continued tutoring, would have made a difference. After what felt like an eternity, Severus stepped back and extended a hand to Harry,who stared at it incredulously for a minute before his eyes snapped back up to meet those of his formerly hated professor. When he saw no signs of mocking, he shook the extended hand.

"Excellent work, Mister Potter."

"Thank you, Sir."

Severus stepped past Harry and, only when his face was only visible to Hermione, let his expression transform into an amused smile. He patted her shoulder briefly as he passed, her fingers reaching up to graze his before they were gone. When he had disappeared down the hall, Hermione turned to Harry, who was staring at the floor and pale as a sheet.

"See? I told you he wouldn't eat you." Harry's eyes jerked up to meet hers. His expression that of a small deer in the path of an oncoming truck.

"That's was bloody terrifying." Hermione's laugh could be heard all the way down the hall as they began to head for their rooms.

* * *

That night Severus was reading in bed, trying not to think about the curly-haired witch sleeping in a bedroom somewhere in the same house he was in, when he heard a small sound outside his door. Without any semblance of a knock, the door quietly opened and said witch, clad in fleece muggle pajama bottoms and a tank top, came padding into his room.

He attempted to hide his pleasure under a raised eyebrow, but her smile let him know that it fooled neither of them.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" his velvety voice made her stomach do somersaults.

"Well, I still plan to double up on my time this summer, and since I no longer have my parents' house as a secondary location, it leaves me with one bedroom and two nights of sleep. I'm not insinuating anything other than sleep should transpire, but seeing as I don't fancy spooning with myself, I figured you might be amenable to some company," she paused with a flash of a mischievous grin followed by a face of clearly-feigned innocence.

"If you'd prefer, I could go see if Harry was amenable to sharing…" she made towards the door as if she intended to leave when, quick as a flash, Severus was out of bed and two strong arms had grabbed her from behind and wrapped around her torso. She grinned as she leaned into him.

"If you so much as take a step towards Potter's bed this entire summer I am going to tie you to mine," his velvety whisper was so close to her ear that she could feel his breath move the small wisp of hair by her ear. She smiled and turned her head around to capture his lips with hers. His arms loosened slightly, allowing her to turn to face him as he slowly pivoted them and backed her towards his bed. When her knees hit the side of the bed, she broke the kiss and pulled away to look into his dark eyes.

"Seriously, Severus. I mean only to sleep, at least for now. Plus, tomorrow I have a date with this book I found in the Black library on ancient military spells that-" It was her turn to get cut off.

"Argh, witch, if you're going to be sleeping here we're going to have to institute a no war talk in the bedroom policy. Now come here and do shut up." He climbed back into bed and pulled her into him, positioning her back by his chest and wrapping his arm around her waist. Of all the times in her life Hermione had been told to shut up, for once she was happy to comply.


	29. 29: Manly Bonding

**Chapter 29: Manly Bonding**

 **I managed to get it done by Friday! Yay! This chapter wasn't really in the plans, but as I began writing it just seemed to happen. A lot of stuff needed to be said, so this is a 'talk-y' chapter not an 'action-y' chapter, just to warn you.**

* * *

Harry was looking around like he was about to get mugged, Severus was striding a few steps ahead of them as if he was incredibly annoyed (though Hermione knew his facial expressions well enough by now that she could tell he was immensely amused by Harry's nervousness), and Hermione was trying to keep a straight face despite her mix of amusement at Harry and butterflies at the idea of what was coming next. The grimy door swung open and they were immediately heralded in by a fit of heavily-accented yelling.

"The prodigal son returns! Why Severus Snape, it's good to...and he has two ducklings this time," Edgar put down the filthy rag he seemed always to be holding and crossed over the bar to shake Severus' hand.

In keeping with how she had been introduced to Edgar, she and Severus seemed to have silently agreed not to tell Harry a thing about where they were going, who would be there, or what would happen when they got there. Harry had been a little perplexed when she had instructed him to put on his trainers and come with her, but in his new state of mind post-ministry he really didn't question Hermione when she asked him to do things. However, now that they were in a random muggle bar in a seedy neighborhood he seemed to be contemplating changing his mind on that.

"Why you look all grow'd up, little missy!" Edgar moved from Severus to Hermione, exaggerating the process of looking her up and down. Hermione felt herself color under his eye, but she stood tall under what she could tell was an inspection only in jest. Harry looked at her with the look a deer would give a large cat just before the cat decided to pounce. Hermione was doing a stoic job at hiding her amusement but she made the mistake of locking eyes with Severus and, seeing her sentiments mirrored in his eyes, couldn't help but laugh at Harry's panicked expression. She and Severus simultaneously let out a snort of laughter, followed by another shared glance and a half-hearted attempt at returning to a neutral facial expression.

When she looked back to Edgar, she immediately froze as his watery blue eyes were staring, seemingly through her, with an intention that had been nowhere to be found in their joking interlude so far. He slowly shifted his gaze to Severus before panning back to Hermione.

"Interesting," he muttered, seemingly to himself, "I wouldn't have put money on it happening this quickly, but at least on one side it's about damn time, so who am I to judge?" Severus was now glaring daggers at the man, in a subtle way that only a Slytherin (or Hermione) could tell how much danger they were actually in. Edgar seemed oblivious or really didn't care. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as they darted towards Harry, but she didn't have to worry because Harry was busy examining the inebriated patron still passed out in his booth at 8am on a Monday, a look of sheer horror residing below his lightning scar.

Edgar saw the line of her eyes, gave a knowing "ahhhhh" and staged a theatrical wink back at her, miming a key turning by his lips. At this point he finally looked over at Severus' increasingly heated glare and, upon seeing the face that would have seen adult wizards on either side of the fight running for cover, promptly burst into laughter.

"Okay, okay, Severus, you can put your hackles down, let's see what you've brought me this year. It'll be hard to top the fun I had training this one though."

At the word 'training' Harry's eyes jerked up, found the ancient punching bag in the back of the bar, and inquisitively landed on Hermione, his look a mixture of admiration and incredulity. She simply laughed and nodded back to him.

Today was shaping up to be a pretty fun first day of summer indeed.

* * *

Three hours later when Severus returned he found Hermione on an area of the floor she had obviously wiped up herself, performing her usual post-workout stretches with a smile on her face that showed faint tinges of pride and satisfaction. It must have gone well. Despite the fact that he was an old Muggle barkeep whom Hermione only met a year ago, he knew she valued his opinion and wanted him to be pleased with her progress. Despite Severus' best efforts, he still could not rid his Gryffindor witch of her desire to prove herself to people. He flashed her an approving smile and she beamed back at him.

He started walking towards Edgar, who was rearranging murky bottles at the bar. When Edgar saw him, he flashed Severus a crooked grin and gestured his head, looking over at something in the corner. Severus turned to see a sweaty, rumpled Potter, one trainer on the other off, slouched on the floor with his back against the wall and the bar's proprietary upchuck bucket between his knees. Severus shook his head in a mixture of amusement and distaste, approaching a still-grinning Edgar.

"You appear to have broken Mister Potter, Edgar. I did indicate that I needed him back alive, yes?"

Edgar's smile shone with pride, then Severus saw it falter and tipped his head to inquire.

"What do you know about that one, Sev?" Edgar's smile was now gone and his blue eyes shone with a fierce intensity.

"Not much. He was raised by an aunt and uncle after the death of his parents. Typical middle class family, I believe. Why?"

"There's something he's not telling you then. The reason the lad is over there having indelicate relations with that bucket is because I had to stick to conditioning drills only. You remember when we started out we did a round of technique every time you started to keel over? I tried that with this one and the first time I threw a fake punch at him he flinched like the devil was coming after him."

Severus balked, "If you think the boy is too soft-"

Edgar interrupted him fiercely, "He's not soft, Severus. He's been hit before. He's used to it. It's like it was at first with you, only you fought back even when you knew it wasn't good for you. This one, he's used to taking it. I've seen that look in a man's eyes before. You can't train the body to fight until the mind realizes it's allowed to defend itself."

"And you want me to talk to him? I told you the boy and I don't have a good history…"

"You're cut from the same cloth, Severus. Only where you learned to blame everyone else and developed that anger problem of yours, he learned to blame himself, like he must deserve it somehow. That's why he just takes it. Until he realizes it's not his job to be a breathing punching bag and gets some of that righteous anger you mastered so young, well there's not much I can do with him other than making him fit to beat a rampaging rhino in a foot race."

Severus looked over at Potter with newly-critical eyes. He could see the boy's trainers were dirty and beyond repair. His muggle clothes were an expensive brand, but three or four sizes to big for him. His hair was an uncut mess and he seemed far scrawnier in his muggle clothes than Severus could ever remember him being in his school uniform. _Petunia, I knew you were horrible, but I never thought you'd sink that low._ Severus sighed a deep sigh of resignation.

"I'll talk to him."

* * *

After they had gone back to Grimmauld place, Hermione was still in the shower and Harry was sitting in the library with a book on basic fighting strategy in his lap, clearly the tattered copy Severus had given Hermione when she first started with Edgar. Severus took a silent deep breath and sat down in the chair facing Potter. The boy looked up with confusion on his face, which only intensified when he saw a look he hadn't seen in five years of potions classes. They sat there in silence for a second, Harry obviously growing more uncomfortable by the minute, until Severus spoke.

"You know I knew Petunia when we were children," Severus started, using a tone so free of condescension that Harry almost startled.

"Sir?"

"She was a nasty little girl, no doubt about it. But I always assumed she had good somewhere inside of her. Your mother was so unfailingly kind, I just assumed sisters couldn't be that dissimilar."

"Sir, I don't-" Severus cut him off.

"Why didn't you tell Dumbledore, Potter? We could have done something."

Harry looked for a second like he was going to ask what he was talking about, but after looking at Severus' face his shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath.

"Honestly, Sir, I didn't realize that wasn't normal. I got to Hogwarts and everything was so...I just figured it was how it was with everyone. Then when I started hearing my friends talk about their parents...I just assumed it was because I was forced on them. I still, I guess I don't blame them. They never-" Severus cut him off again, but this time it was with a more cutting, venomous, and cold voice than Harry had ever heard. And with Professor Snape, that was saying something. If his usual voice sent first years running for safety, this one would make even the seventh year Slytherins wet themselves.

"It is never acceptable to hit a child. Never. If they didn't want you, they could have said no. There were options. What happened to you…" Severus paused for a second, taking a deep breath, "...or to me, is not normal. It is not okay. And it was not your fault, any more than it was mine."

Harry could not have looked more flabbergasted if Severus had grown wings and flown around the room.

"Sir, you…?"

"My father was neither a nice, nor a pleasant man, even less so when he drank. My mother was either too weak or too frightened to protect me… or herself. It is not an uncommon story. Those of us who share it often come away with the impression that it was somehow deserved. When I was quite young Edgar taught me that was not the case. Now, it seems, I am a bit late to help your childhood, but I would like to help you not allow it to affect the man you become."

Silence reigned as Severus' words hung heavy in the air between them.

"Why do you hate me, Sir?" Severus' divulgence of personal information seemed to have emboldened Harry to asking the question that had been weighing on him for five years. Severus took a deep breath before answering.

"When you left the Dursleys and escaped to Hogwarts, you immediately found a kindred spirit in Mister Weasley, and later Miss Granger. I did not. A half blood Slytherin walks a treacherous path, so when I developed rivalries I had no support and even fewer witnesses. Imagine trying to teach the future child of Mister Malfoy and you will get an approximation of why you and I didn't start with a blank slate." Harry nodded, still deep in thought. After a few minutes Severus came to the conclusion they were done speaking and got up to leave the room. As he was almost to the door Harry spoke without turning around.

"I'm sorry, Sir. For what he did to you. After what you...I mean we...well, I can't imagine facing Malfoy without Ron and Hermione at my back. I wouldn't stand a shot. It wasn't fair." Severus stopped, but didn't turn around.

"No, it wasn't." Another long pause hung heavy in the air. "Another situation which, yet again, was not your fault."

And with that Severus left the library, leaving Harry alone with a great many thoughts.

* * *

When Severus had taken two steps down the hall from the library, he heard a noise behind him. Without turning around, he sighed with frustration.

"Can't you keep your lupine nose out of other people's business?" Remus padded out of the shadows and faced Severus.

"Is it true? What you told Harry?" Severus' huff of frustration was audible.

"What, that my sorry excuse for a father used to use me as a punching bag or that you Gryffindors liked to sneak up on me en masse in an empty corridor?" Severus' eyes flashed dangerously, but instead of meeting his anger in kind, Lupin seemed to deflate. An awkward silence grew between them, Lupin's aggressive stance long gone but his body still blocking Severus' path.

"Thank you for helping Harry. I didn't realize... I mean I should have...He shouldn't have been left...Thank you." Remus looked Severus in the eyes with the spirit of a beta wolf submitting to the alpha. Were Severus not the consummate Slytherin and a practiced spy the sheer shock would have registered on his face. What did eventually emerge was a solemn nod.

"You're welcome. A great deal rides on Mister Potter's shoulders. He needs to be as prepared as possible for us to even hope for a favorable outcome against the Dark Lord." Lupin nodded, his face eerily similar to the one Harry had been wearing when Severus left the library. Severus gestured his head, indicating he would like to get by, and Lupin jumped to the side like an enchanted gargoyle guarding a password-protected door at Hogwarts. Before Severus could disappear down the hall Lupin's voice rang out in the silence.

"I'm sorry, Severus. For what we did to you. It was wrong of us."

Severus didn't speak, but Lupin's words momentarily halted his steps. From behind Lupin could see him nod subtly before he resumed walking and disappeared down the hallway.


	30. 30: Summer Redux

**Chapter 30: Summer Redux**

 **Hey look! Another chapter! Who woulda thunk?**

 **Also, I am incredibly proud to announce that I finally finished one of the two promised one-shots for the 100th review winner. The story requested by the lovely PadmeG is up, so please check it out. It's called "In a Small Town". DutchGirl01, your monster of a one-shot has not been forgotten, but as your prompt could have led to a story longer than this one it's taking a bit longer. The next reward will be given out at 500 reviews!**

 **That said, enjoy the new chapter and, as always, let me know if you have any ideas/requests. While Severus bosses me around plot-wise most of the time, I always welcome reader feedback as well.**

* * *

As the summer progressed, they fell into a similar pattern as Hermione had followed the previous year, only she was still doubling (and often tripling) her days, spending one with Harry and the other split between independent study and spending time with Severus. Harry was brought into the loop as to her time turner activities, but after seeing the look on his face when he walked in on her French braiding her past (or possibly future) self's hair one morning she tried to keep her 'one Hermione at a time' policy around Harry. This further cemented in her head the fact that Severus was the only one twisted enough to enjoy abusing the time-space continuum the way she did.

She went with Harry to see Edgar each morning, not sure if she was there to further her training or to give Edgar someone to torture while Harry caught his breath between exercises. It turned out to be a little of both. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Edgar had a whole other level of dirty tricks and techniques that enabled a man very advanced in his years still to give a fit, twenty year old a run for her money in combat. It was also good for her to be able to focus just on hand to hand combat without the ability to use magic. She knew that against Voldemort or his Death Eaters she would be highly reliant on her spell work, but when faced with the unforgivable curses (where shield spells had no effect and countercurses were useless) her reflexes were more important than ever.

Harry had made significant progress since his talk with Severus and was, much to Hermione's amusement, seemed to enjoy his fighting training far more than, in her opinion, a person ever should. It was to the point where if someone had offered Harry a chance to spar with her or go play Quidditch she had a pretty good idea what he would have chosen and Ron Weasley wouldn't have been a bit pleased. So far Harry and Hermione were turning out to be great training partners because their strengths and weaknesses complemented each other quite well. Harry had made progress quite quickly thanks to his quidditch background and, while he was nowhere near caught up to where Hermione was, he could still pose quite a problem for her when they sparred without magic. Hermione Hermione was quick on her feet and changed directions like the wind, but she couldn't pack as much power as Harry could when they both landed solid punches or kicks. Harry, on the other hand, outmatched her when it came to sheer power, but got too easily focused on one target or course of approach and committed too fully to that one strategy, leaving himself open for Hermione to anticipate his moves and block or redirect him. Edgar often matched them up to spar because it kept Harry on her toes and made Hermione focus more on her power.

Where Harry was having more of a hard time was in his sessions with Moody. Harry and Hermione spent their mornings with Edgar, their afternoons either in special sessions with whatever staff members Severus could wrangle into spending extra time at headquarters, and, since he had finally resumed work with the Auror department, Moody gave Harry the same (or a paired down version of the same) dark arts crash course he had given Hermione the summer previous. Harry was not the avid student Hermione was, so he had much harder of a time absorbing Moody's rapidfire combination of advanced charms, transfiguration, and defense, all mashed into one, seemingly punctuationless lecture delivered at Moody's breakneck pace in his signature mumble. Even with Hermione reviewing her notes with him every night after Moody hobbled out he was still hanging on by a thin thread.

Harry's "classes" were held in the Grimmauld place library, so Hermione could casually study nearby while leaving her own personally-charmed version of the quick quotes quill running in the background without having to stop what she was doing to listen to Harry's lessons. Severus would occasionally take a place at one of the tables and, as only Hermione could tell, keep tabs on how Harry was doing, and incorporate the points he believed Harry had missed into his own lesson next time it was his turn to "educate the heathens", as he called it when it was his turn to spend the afternoon teaching Harry and Hermione. Remus often wandered into the library when Harry's lessons with Moody were going on, although Hermione secretly thought it was more to enjoy the fact that he had other people to be around more than his concern for Harry's training.

On one such evening, Remus was curled up in a chair by the fire, attempting to read but really embodying his canine counterpart and just dozing in the heat of the flames. Severus was at the back table with a heavy potions tome on the table, muttering quietly under his breath as he apparently cross-checked the facts in the most recent _Potions Quarterly_. Hermione was sitting against the wall listening to muggle music on a CD player she had enchanted to work in a magical environment, note-taking quill keeping tabs on Harry's lesson, but completely tuned out to the world otherwise. Harry was taking notes as fast as he could, but was looking almost frantic as he tried to keep up with Moody's mutterings.

Apparently Moody seemed to think that Harry had progressed enough to move on to a new level, because, as he was lecturing about a specific permutation of stinging hex, he fired off an example at Harry without warning him or even turning fully around from the enchanted blackboard he had conjured. Harry jumped as the hex hit him across the shoulder, springing out of his chair with a vigor that shouldn't have been possible for someone with muscles as sore as his currently were.

"No! Absolutely not!" Harry half-shouted, shaking his head and rubbing his shoulder in agitation. "No one can be _that_ vigilant. No! I said nothing when I had to train every morning with the sadistic, Muggle bartender from hell. I even grew to like it. I take so many notes each evening I've started taking a potion to preemptively ward off writer's cramp! All without complaint! But no one has the ability to protect themselves from unexpected hexes from their teacher _while_ the teacher is mid-lesson! I'm drawing the line!"

The beginning of Harry's outburst had woken Lupine, who was now looking on in concern. Severus was spectating hairy with an unreadable look and a raised eyebrow. The only person in the room who seemingly did not notice Harry's emotional pyrotechnics was Hermione, who was still elbow deep in her book and nodding slightly in time with the music on her muggle player.

"You want to make a wager on that?" There was a dangerous gleam in Moody's eye and not a shred of humor in his face. Before Harry could think to object Moody began casting rapid-fire hexes at the studying form of Hermione. When the first one came four feet from her there was a small pop and a burst of light, which seemed to send her into a dive roll behind one of the couches. By the time she was head up again she had her wand in one hand and was casting a transparent (but for small flickers of blue lightning) shield spell out of the other palm. She began casting countercurses at Moody just as quickly as he was sending spells at her. From what Harry had learned with Moody that summer he could see that the spells they were using were no jelly legs jinxes either. Moody kept shooting something that crackled like muggle fireworks but had a sickly green color that instinctively reeked of dark magic, while Hermione seemed to favor spells that appeared to have the sole purpose of eviscerating, bisecting, and demolishing anything with which they came into contact. (At least that much Harry surmised by the look of the sofa into which Moody had deflected one of them.) Before Harry could even cognize the speed with which the two were casting and blocking spells back and forth, Hermione took one great leap from where she was crouching behind the couch, diagonally onto the table that had Harry's now-abandoned notes on it, and then through the air at Moody's head. She continued casting curses at Moody as she launched herself at the old auror. He was able to dodge her initial impact, but with catlike grace she pivoted around and it was a roundhouse kick behind his good knee, combined with an appropriately-timed disarming spell that eventually put Moody on his back.

Upon catching Moody's wand Hermione stared down at him for a split second with the look a jungle cat gives its prey. Then, a split second later, she straightened up and seemed to transform before their eyes back into the know-it-all bookworm with which they were all familiar. She offered Moody a hand which he took begrudgingly, then helped him up as he groaned. Once he was standing once more she presented his wand to him handle first with a small bow as he took it. He returned the gesture by nodding reverently, then broke into a small, crooked smile.

"Well at least someone pays attention when I talk," he grunted at her as he made his way back to the conjured blackboard, repairing couches and righting chairs with his wand as he walked.

"There's no need to hex me while I'm reading, Alastor. If you want to get me to pay attention to you, you need only ask. Unless..." She paused momentarily, "that was a demonstration for Harry's benefit? You've finally started hexing him during lessons, haven't you?" Harry's jaw dropped. He wasn't sure if he was more upset that Moody had subjected Hermione to the same treatment or that she hadn't warned him about it ahead of time.

"Hermione, what the bloody hell was that?" It was Lupin's voice that came shakily across the room. He looked pale and as if he was torn between the urge to rush to Hermione's side and check her for injuries and the urge to flee from her presence entirely.

"What was what?" Hermione asked, innocently sweeping her wand across the room to collect Harry's notes, which had been strewn around the room in all the excitement. They floated back to the desk and organized them into an orderly pile.

"THAT," Lupin said with a stunned look still across his face, "what you just did. Beating one of the most experienced aurors alive in a duel that was started without warning and while your back was turned." Hermione grinned with the look she wore when she got a correct answer in class, slightly proud and slightly abashed.

"Well I keep a low level shield spell running around me at all times, I've modified it to the point where I can keep it up without too much thought. It doesn't repel spells, but it gives me enough warning to dodge them in time." She sat back down and grabbed the book she had been reading, either unaware of or choosing to ignore the fact that Lupin was still looking at her like she had just sprouted a leathery tail.

"...but the rest of it. How did you…?" Lupin looked around to Harry and Severus as if for help. Harry was still looking as if he had just been hit across the face with a bludger. When Lupin's eyes panned over to Severus, he was alarmed to see that the man hadn't moved from his position during the entire duel; he hadn't even put down his journal. He now spoke over the top of his papers without looking up, in the manner of a muggle grandfather reading the morning paper.

"Just be grateful, Lupin. She usually favors spells that leave a majority of the room in smoking piles of ash." Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted at Severus.

"Well it would hardly be polite of me to destroy Sirius' library while he isn't conscious to reprimand me about it, would it?" Severus didn't respond, but waved a hand to wordlessly send a wadded up ball of paper flying at her head. She flicked her fingers at it in mid air and it incinerated into nothing but cinders before it got halfway to her. She then proceeded to stick her tongue out at Severus, who rolled his eyes and went back to reading his potions journal with a shake of his head.

Lupin's eyes met Harry's with the same mix of fear and disbelief. Before either could speak they were interrupted by Moody's grumbly voice cutting across the silence.

"If we're all done with the games, I still have another hour's worth of material to cover with you, Potter. Can we please get on with it?"

Harry sat down at his desk, but this time kept his wand in his left hand while he took notes with his right.


	31. 31: The Owl

**Chapter 31: The Owl**

 **A little on the short side, but so far I haven't missed a week! Yay! As always, thank you for all the reviews! That is literally my biggest motivator to keep writing (when I should be doing about fifty other things instead). Also, let me know how, um, steamy you guys want this. Right now it's a solid T, but if you're coming from _The List_ that was definitely M. I'm not inclined to go full-smut, but let me know what you guys want in the more plot or more mushy department and I'll try to accommodate.**

* * *

A few nights later Hermione and Severus were both studying in his room when there was a tapping at the window. Severus had long since spelled himself to be unfindable to owls, Hermione assumed it was going to be for her and moved to open the window. In flew a large eagle owl with bright orange eyes, high black horns, and an almost regal air about him. He swooped across the room before landing on the table in front of her and giving her what was surely the owl equivalent of a sneer. Severus looked at the bird with a surprised and worried look on his face.

"Plutus?" The owl turned its haughty glare from Hermione to Severus and she could have sworn that she saw it nod to him.

"Plutus? Who names their owl Plutus? As in son of Demeter, Plutus?" Hermione asked with curiosity as she moved to take the roll of parchment off the bird's foot.

"That's the Malfoy owl," Severus said with a dangerous tone to his voice. "Why are you getting owls from the Malfoys?"

Hermione started when she heart the name and seemed to have brief second thoughts about touching the letter. However, whatever hesitation she had felt was gone in an instant and she grabbed the parchment with a determined excitement.

"Do you remember our conversation about me not seeing the full spectrum of potential allies?" Severus' eyebrow went up.

"I don't remember telling you to attempt to convert the heir to the throne of the Dark Lord's most powerful supporter," Severus' tone was full of worry, though whether it was for Hermione or for his cover she couldn't quite tell. She threw her head back and laughed.

"Yes, Severus, because I am exceedingly stupid. In fact, I invited Crabbe Senior and Bellatrix over for tea later, would you like to join us?"

The eyebrow got even higher.

"Oh put that thing back down, you doubter. I saw an opportunity to catch Draco by himself shortly before we left Hogwarts and I simply took advantage of it to mention to him that he had a choice to make."

The eyebrow lowered a fraction, but remained highly skeptical.

"And he was receptive to this?"

Hermione shrugged and tore the seal off the roll of parchment.

"I guess we'll see," she said, unrolling the scroll and reading aloud, "Meet tomorrow at the Seafayre stall at the Balham Farmer's market. 2pm. Come alone."

"Draco Malfoy wants to meet you alone in Muggle London? Please tell me you're not considering going."

Hermione shot him a quizzical look and another shrug. "A farmer's market is as public as you can get and the muggle world is hardly his area of expertise. He couldn't have picked a clearer way to put himself at a disadvantage."

"It could still be a trap." Severus said snappily, clearly knowing he was logically beat but not about to admit it.

"It could, but I handled Malfoy senior and his band of bumbling cronies at the ministry, I think I can handle junor at a muggle farmer's market. Plus," she added with a cheeky grin, "have a little faith in your snakes. It's about time one of them came round from the dark side." She punctuated her sentence by flopping down on her side onto the bed next to Severus and leaning her head on her propped up arm.

Severus apparently appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood and pulled her closer to him until he could speak directly into her ear. He slowly brushed an escaped tendril of her hair behind said ear as he directed his velvety voice just to her, "you mean other than myself, you mean?"

A long, slow intake of breath proceeded Hermione's ability to form coherent words. She tilted her head up to meet his lips with her own, but just before she made contact she stopped and nudged his nose playfully with her own. She felt his lips pull into a smile as they stretched against hers.

"Just be careful. I find I've grown rather attached to you, witch."

Hermione smiled as she redoubled the intensity of their kiss.

"Always."

* * *

Hermione walked into the crowd of milling muggles not really knowing what to expect. In none of her possible imaginings of the situation, however, did she expect to see Draco Malfoy standing there in muggle blue jeans and a tee shirt, examining an airloom apple as if he did this every weekend. He saw her as she approached and seemed to tense up in anticipation.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" she asked only half in jest. However, upon hearing her tone she noted that his posture relaxed just a bit. _Apparently he was anticipating an ambush almost as much as I was._

"Ha bloody ha, Granger. Do you know how long it took me to find a place no one would recognize me so I could exchange my galleons for pounds to buy these ridiculous clothes? And what is with muggles and growing their own food? Is this a thing for all of them, or just these nutjobs?" Draco paused and tilted his head at the look of unabashed amusement that was threatening to turn into actual laughter on Hermione's face.

"What?" he demanded defensively.

"It's just good to see that it's still you in there after all. You had me worried. For a second I thought you were going to sniff that apple." Hermione giggled at the dramatic eye roll this garnered from Malfoy. They then lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Why did you ask me here Malfoy? Why go through all this trouble? I mean, if it necessitates you wearing blue jeans it must be a matter of life and death." She tried to lighten the mood but she could still sense a dark cloud seemingly come over his grey eyes. He was silent for a second and kicked at some pebbles on the ground before he actually spoke.

"Is there any chance I can talk to you without you running off to the Order about it? It's literally my life on the line if anyone knows that I'm even speaking to you." He looked in her eyes and she could see a brief flicker of vulnerability before the Slytherin mask slid back into place. She nodded and answered as seriously as possible.

"I swear not to divulge anything without your express permission, Draco."

He nodded back and toed the rock he had been kicking a few more times, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, his posture simultaneously stooping as if he had let the excess air out of a balloon. He looked almost defeated when he began speaking.

"I hated you for what you said to me at the end of term. Absolutely despised it. I spent the entire train ride back cursing at you in my head. But then I got home and...it's gotten so much worse than I ever thought it would. With my father gone and our family out of favor with the Dark Lord….it's all just gone to shit. My crazy aunt Bellatrix is practically living in our house, she's even making my mother uncomfortable. It wasn't a week before I got dragged in front of the Dark Lord. He wants to mark me. Says he wants to train me up to be the right hand man my father couldn't be, but I know he's just doing it to punish my father for what happened at the ministry. And the whole time I had your goddamned voice ringing in my ears that I had a bloody choice."

He stopped and looked up at her, his eyes searching her face as if looking for an answer. She didn't know if he found one, but he suddenly straightened up and his gaze became more determined.

"I won't be marked like cattle. Malfoys don't belong to anyone. This isn't what I signed up for and I can see it eating away at my mother." He took a deep breath before continuing with an evenly measured voice. "If you can guarantee her safety and try your best to keep me alive, I'll do whatever you need me to do. Thinking you mu-... muggleborns are inferior is one thing, but this war is turning into something else entirely. You said I had a choice, I'm making it."

* * *

"Draco Malfoy in muggle trousers? Well I'm definitely sorry I missed that!" Severus laughed into his tea as Hermione recounted to him the happenings of that afternoon.

"Do you believe him?" Severus asked, handing her another biscuit.

"Despite his house placement, the last thing anyone could ever accuse Draco Malfoy of is subtlety. Plus, I did a basic legilimency sweep while we were talking and despite the rudimentary shields he was trying to throw up. His acting is on par with Slytherin standards, but his occlumency is rubbish. I could clearly see that, although he was drastically understating just how terrified he was, he was being quite straightforward. And before you say anything, I made sure he couldn't tell I was checking. He's so used to the Dark Lord's battering ram approach to legilimency that I would have had to dance the hula naked in his mind for him to notice me." Hermione smirked as Severus's eyes narrowed.

"Well given that I'm not allowed to see you naked, I must say that I would be quite put out if you took that course of action." It was said in jest, but Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet his.

"I never said that! Where did that rule come from?" she tilted her head in honest (and amusingly manic) curiosity.

Severus responded with a little too level of a voice, "when you began sleeping in my room I believe your exact words were that you were here 'only to sleep'."

" _That's_ why you're so funny if I try to kiss you while we're in the bed? I didn't know what was going on, but I must say that I was starting to get a complex." Severus was now looking quite determinedly at his lap.

"I was trying to respect your wishes," he said with a hint of sullenness in his voice.

Hermione let out an unappreciated giggle, stood up, took the book he had been reading out of his hand, and promptly sat down in his lap, straddling him with one of her legs on either side of him.

"I didn't mean to infer anything of the sort, you dear, stupid man," she punctuated her sentence with a kiss to the tip of his nose. "I just didn't want you to feel used or pressured by me sleeping here every night. I didn't want to move too fast."

Severus was having a harder time than normal keeping his composure given the way she was sitting. "You thought that, as a red-blooded wizard I would mind feeling pressured to get physical with a beautiful, young witch in my bed? Hermione I fear book learning may not be enough if you-"

She interrupted whatever the end of his sentence would have been by smashing her lips to his. The kiss was longer and more passionate than usual, and she had to fight the urge to rock her hips towards him as their tongues tangled. Severus was finally the one to break the kiss and pull back.

"So what do you want on the physical front, Hermione? The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable." Hermione smiled and kissed his nose again.

"I don't want to progress to quickly, but if we don't start progressing a little soon I fear I may try to strangle you in your sleep."

To make her point she grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist, looking at him with a look that clearly screamed 'your move'. Severus nodded almost reverently, as if he was looking at the most wonderful present ever given and pulled her forward to capture her lips once more.


	32. 32: From a Sound Sleep

**Chapter 32: From A Sound Sleep**

 **Hello patient readers! So sorry this one is so short and has taken so long to get out. Between traveling last weekend (and next weekend), the kiddos being out of school, and a random busy streak at work things have been a bit crazy. However, I hope that once June is solidly in the rear view mirror things will settle back down and I can focus on what really matters: SEVERUS. Just kidding. (Mostly.)**

 **This one is short, but I figured I would give you a little fluff for being so patient with me. As always, thank you for your reviews! They make me want to abandon my actual work and write. :)**

* * *

Hermione had lapsed into a fairly normal routine, if you could call manipulating a magical device so that each day was exactly 60 hours long normal. She did her "first round" of the day with Harry, focusing on his occlumency training in the early morning, going with him to train with Edgar until lunch, eating ravenously, looping back over the morning hours for her own training (because someone clearly should have warned the bushy-haired witch about the dangers of addiction to running), taking notes on Harry's afternoon lessons with Moody (or whatever other "guest lecturers" Severus had lined up for Harry), then reviewing with Harry over a long dinner and evening study session, which she would then double up on those evening hours to do her own revisions before heading to a much-deserved bed.

Her "second round" of the day started with a hardcore combat training session with Severus, followed by a breakfast-slash-postmortem meeting in which they went over the strategy of the training they had done (yes, the modified pensive had made its way to Grimmauld place's makeshift gym over the summer). Hermione was getting quite good at her battles against the memory Death Eaters, often fighting with a feral grin of enjoyment on her face that occasionally disturbed even Severus. After this they would head to the lab where she would work on her potions apprentice work, which now that school was out of session was more often than not just helping Severus with whatever research project he was currently conducting. This was followed by lunch and then a long (often artificially long, thanks to her little adornment) study session in which Hermione often commandeered Severus' entire bedroom floor with her mountains of papers, books, notes, quills, and other study paraphernalia. She had worried at first that it would be a bother to him to have her in his space, but they had agreed that his room was the safest place to sequester her second self as no one in their right mind would ever enter the scowling potion master's private quarters unless the house was literally on fire. (Even then, Severus argued, they might prefer to let the fire have its way.)

Occasionally at night she would apparate out for a second run in some random location if her pent up energy got to be too much for her after hours of studying. On these nights she would quietly summon clothes to the bathroom and disillusion herself before sneaking into Severus' bedroom for her second night of sleep. Usually she would find him sitting in bed with reading glasses (reading glasses which, she once admitted to him, made blood rush away from her brain to whatever place in her body was responsible for giving her the desire to snog him senseless) and a book or still up and doing work at his desk.

One night she returned from a run that turned into much more of an adventure than she had prepared for (she had apparated to a running trail that happened to be populated with a friendlier variety of mountain goat and had to spend a great deal of her time shooing them away from her trainers which, apparently, looked like catnip for goats) and found Severus already asleep in the bed. She quietly proceeded to go about her evening bedtime routine when she began to hear thrashing from the bed. She quickly hurried over to see what was wrong, but before she could get to him he let out the most heart wrenching mix of a scream and a moan. She quickly sat next to him on the bed and began stroking his arm, trying to wake him up.

"Severus, wake up." She whispered at first, trying to shake him awake. More moans through gritted teeth.

"Severus!" His moans grew louder and his limbs were tangled in the bedsheets like he was being eaten by Devil's Snare.

"Wake up, Severus!" Her hand went to his face but before she could touch his cheek the movement stopped and his hands snapped up to grab both of her wrists. His wild eyes searched her face before they locked on to her own. For a few seconds he stared at her, still in full fight or flight panic from whatever dream he'd been having. Suddenly something in his eyes softened as he woke up enough to recognise her and her wrists were immediately dropped as he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

Almost instinctively she wrapped her arms around him, one hand moving to draw comforting circles across his back, the other sliding gently through his hair as he held her. Seconds turned to minutes as he held her in silence. She was almost grateful for the new muscle she had put on over the course of her training as she wasn't quite sure how her formerly-fragile frame would have handled the fortitude of this embrace, as his arms had yet to loosen their grip around her. Slowly, he finally disentangled himself from her and tried to pull away, but she held with one arm and tilted his chin up so his eyes met her own. She had expected to ask him what he had dreamt about, but when she saw the mix of receding terror and abject shame in his eyes she changed her mind and gave him a small smile as she dropped her lips to his.

His body remained tense at the beginning of the kiss, but has her lips worked his she could slowly feel the muscles across his body begin to uncoil and lose some of their tension. When she reached out with her tongue and gently requested entrance into his mouth she felt the last of the tremors leave his body as he pulled her tight to him and lay back down on the pillows, bringing her face gently with his so she was stretched out next to him. Their kiss intensified and she enjoyed the tendrils of fire he made shoot from the pit of her stomach all the way through her toes until he suddenly pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. His eyes still closed he spoke in a whisper.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Did I hurt you?" She dropped another chaste kiss on his lips before speaking.

"You'll have to try harder than that to hurt me, silly man. Are you okay?" He squeezed her a little tighter and she felt the rumble of a silent laugh.

"I didn't realize the nightmares had gone away until tonight. It used to be a nightly occurrence, but since you began your nightly attempts to suffocate me in that hair of yours...I can't believe I didn't notice they were gone." His voice sounded so insecure, so much younger than she had ever heard in the light of day.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there then, if having somebody helps-"

"You. Not somebody, you. Having you here is what I need, witch." She felt his arms squeeze her in time with the emphasis of his words.

"Well, then I should probably keep an eye on you more closely then," she said dropping a gentle kiss to his nose before burrowing her face into his shoulder.

"...but when we go back to the castle?" His voice still exhibited a level of insecurity she almost couldn't bear hearing.

"When we go back to the castle you had better demonstrate some of those warding skills of yours, because Albus might have kneazles if he walked in on you cuddling your apprentice."

She felt another vibration of laughter as he pulled her tightly to him and into their normal sleeping positions, her back tucked against his chest and her hair shooting tendrils across his face.


	33. 33: Preparations

**Chapter 33: Preparations**

 **Well hello there! Apologies for the second two week gap in a row, but with my recent travel schedule (two trips in one month), doing that well felt like a victory. That said, I should be free and clear for a bit now, and I'm making my amends with an extra long chapter today. It's one I think you'll enjoy *wink, wink*. As always, thank you (ahead of time) for all of your lovely reviews. They really do make me want to write faster!**

* * *

As summer wound to a close, the mood around Grimmauld Place began to shift. Harry seemed to withdraw into himself a little bit, all the while clinging even more to Hermione, almost as if he was worried about having to reintegrate his new identity into the old circumstances of Hogwarts. Hermione could tell he was especially nervous about seeing Ron again because, while Ron would always be Harry's first friend in the magical world, it was blatantly obvious in his letters that Ron was not growing up at the same rate as Harry. Even without a timeturner, Harry had undergone marked changes over the summer. There were the obvious physical dividends of his training with Edgar. He had entered the summer looking like a boy who was just beginning to grapple with the idea of puberty, but he now looked like an almost full sized man in height, with solid wiry muscles filling out his frame to make him appear much older than his actual age.

However, the largest change in Harry was not in his physique but in his mentality. He now paused a brief second before he spoke, obviously weighing the consequences of his words before uttering them. He still had outbursts of his temper, but he was much more adept at seeing them coming and had become a master at sequestering himself until he could get his feelings back under control. This newly-found control was largely due to the occlumency and meditation techniques he had finally dedicated himself to learning. He and Severus had butted heads for the duration of the school year and made exactly no progress on the matter, but after the ministry debacle Harry had begun listening to Hermione and had dedicated himself fully to mastering the arts of the mind which could have prevented the endangerment of his friends and the entire Order, something Harry obviously still faulted himself for greatly.

Sirius was still in his magically-induced coma and, while his body was in excellent health, the healers still couldn't find a way to wake him up. Harry was making sure the healers at St. Mungo's spared no expense on his care, but other than that there was nothing he could really do. Every time the subject was mentioned Hermione saw a flash of pain behind her friend's green eyes that showed her how much he still blamed himself for what happened. However unfortunate the cause, this did mean that Harry was paying more attention to his studies than he ever had at Hogwarts. He could never catch up to Hermione academically as she was spending three days to his one preparing and studying and, let's face it, she had been an overachiever her whole life and Harry was just now finding his stride.

However, physically it seemed his quidditch skills were going to prove a great help to him. His lighting fast seeker reflexes and overall endurance made him a quick study. Before long he and Edgar were fast friends as Harry took to physical fighting like a duck to water. He and Hermione had taken to dueling with each other every evening in Severus' hesitantly-offered spare-room-turned-gym (Harry hadn't had to pull the 'technically this is my house' card, but it came close). Hermione almost always had the upper hand on Harry, because after dueling with that many pensived Death Eaters and not to mention Severus himself there's not much one teenage wizard could throw at her, but she had noticed that in situations of pure speed or raw power, Harry would beat her most of the time. He seemed to be coming into his own as they trained and, for the first time, they both began to see how he could possibly live up to the "Boy Who Lived" moniker, not just feel like a scrawny boy who got lucky a few times.

Harry was loathe to admit it, but through talks with Moody and, surprisingly enough, Severus himself, he had begun to realize that this war was going to have to end in a confrontation between himself and Voldemort. He was simply too big a symbol for it not to come down to that. He knew he wouldn't be alone, but he was starting to wrap his head around a role as a potential leader. With this weight on his shoulders, his training and his studying took on a new intensity that impressed even Severus and made Hermione giddy with an almost maternal pride. When the time came, she could finally say that Harry would be ready.

* * *

The other side project Hermione had brewing (as if a potions mastery, combat training, advanced defense against the dark arts, and full time Harry-sitting wasn't enough) was an unexpected truce-almost-turned-friendship with Draco Malfoy. After the first time she met him she had given him an enchanted piece of parchment, sort of a cross between the Marauders' Map and the enchanted galleons she had created for the DA which allowed the two of them to communicate privately and arrange meetings whenever he could get away.

At first their meetings had been awkward and tentative, but as things worsened at home he seemed to be more and more grateful to have a pending escape hatch if he should need it. The Dark Lord had been spending more and more time at Malfoy Manor in Lucius' absence, and Draco had mentioned in no minced words that he seemed to have only a tenuous grip on reality. Hermione had taken that moment to make another probe of Draco's occlumency skills, not sure how much she trusted Draco not to have these treasonous thoughts snatched out of his thoughts by the reptilian madman now apparently residing in the cellars of his house, but she hadn't expected Draco's response. She saw an unprotected mind apparently daydreaming about Draco telling the Dark Lord in no uncertain terms what he thought of his half-blood status and his pasty white skin. She gasped inside Draco's mind before she heard his internal voice ring out, dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, Granger, because I am not only exceedingly stupid but also suicidal." She didn't even have time to laugh before she was kicked out of his mind in a lurch.

It was now Draco's actual voice which dripped with sarcasm, "have a little more faith in me. I'm the pureblood heir to the Malfoy name. I was taught occlumency with my ABCs by my godfather, who is the greatest practitioner of mind magic other than possibly Dumbledore or the Dark Lord himself. I wouldn't have even attempted to get in touch with you if I had any doubt that my mind was well-protected."

Hermione laughed and gave him a nod of concession, "just checking. You were getting a little heretical over there."

"Well, he's getting a little maniacal. It's called a proportional response."

Hermione giggled again and they went back to their previous topic of conversation. The plan was, as soon as school began, Hermione would present Draco to Dumbledore as a potential source of information and vouch for him to broker a deal: Draco's information for his and his mother's safety should the need arise. Hermione had, of course, shared all this with Severus, but given Severus' close proximity to the Malfoy family, he decided it was best to leave Draco in the dark to his true loyalties as long as possible, at least until Dumbledore had fully vetted the boy. Hermione would have felt offended at his lack of faith in her legilimency skills, but as it was his life on the line if the boy was disingenuous she decided to let him take the safe route derision free.

* * *

The day before they were meant to go back to school Harry was surprised by a visit by Dumbledore himself. Much to Hermione's (and later Severus') amusement, Dumbledore had come into the room, given Hermione no more than a cursory nod, and proceeded to direct the rest of his communications solely to Harry, as if Hermione were not next to him reading a book and well within earshot. After embracing Harry like a long-lost son, he proceeded to whisper something in Harry's ear and lead him out of the room. Hermione only just succeeded to stifle a derisive snort as Harry shot her an inquisitive and confused look over his shoulder as he was ushered out on Dumbledore's arm.

A few hours later, Harry returned and plopped himself down onto the armchair next to Hermione with a groan. She looked up with a smirk and surveyed Harry with a look of amusement in her eyes.

"Don't do that!" Harry said, still slouched and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"Do what?" Hermione asked in, for once, unfeigned innocence.

"Smirk at me like that. You look like him when you do that." Harry grumbled through his fingers.

Hermione didn't need to ask whom Harry meant. She immediately tightened her mouth a tiny bit more and kept a frozen expression while she slowly raised one inquisitive eyebrow.

"Aaaaargh! Hermione! The world does not need two people to give me that face! One Severus Snape is just enough for me, thanks."

Hermione broke into a fit of giggles as Harry continued to watch her wearily through his fingers. When she had successfully gasped for enough air to calm herself she finally spoke.

"So what did our esteemed leader have to say to you that was so secretive?" She made sure to sneer the words 'esteemed leader' and insert a pregnant pause before the last word, aping Severus' manner of speaking with astounding accuracy. Harry gave a theatrical shudder and shot her a squinty glare before shaking his head and answering the question.

"He apparated me out to go visit the bloke who taught potions before Professor Snape. Apparently he wants him to come back to Hogwarts. Says he has some important memory I have to get him to tell me, but that he won't want to tell me... It all sounded a bit dodgy to me, actually."

Hermione's mind went into overdrive. Severus hadn't mentioned that he was quitting, nor would it make any sense for him to do so. There was always the Defense Against the Dark Arts position he'd been petitioning for out of sheer stubbornness and desire to be a continuing pain in Albus' arse, but he and Albus both knew potions was what he really enjoyed teaching and, at least the way Severus had portrayed it, his yearly applications had become more of a practical joke than a serious inquiry. None of it made any sense...unless...yes, it would be completely in character for Albus to change Severus over to the Defense position without telling him if he needed to bring on another professor for some other reason. Oh, Severus was going to have very strong feelings about this.

"Which memory do you have to get him to tell you?" she asked Harry, trying to seem casually interested.

"Well, apparently this professor, Slughorn, was the potions professor when Tom Riddle was in school. Dumbledore says that Riddle asked him a question about some dark bit of magic, but Slughorn wouldn't say what. Dumbledore says that he altered the memory before he gave it over to him. Let me see it, but something was definitely off."

"You say he let you see it?" Hermione's interest was now obvious. She bit her lip slightly, counting down the seconds until Harry took the bait.

"Spill, Hermione. I know that look. What do you want?" Hermione gave him a sheepish smile.

"Do you mind if I, erm, eavesdrop a bit, Harry? I promise I'll be gentle. You'll barely notice I'm there." She subtly shifted to face Harry.

"Of course not, but what do you mean eavesdrop-" Harry was cut off in the middle of the sentence as if by a persistent daydream. He felt all floaty while he all the sudden began recalling his meeting with Dumbledore. He felt the urge to go back over the memory Dumbledore had showed him several times before he jerked himself back to reality.

"Sorry, Hermione, I think I glazed over for a second there. What did you just say? I wasn't paying attention...why are you looking at me like that?" Harry's apology shifted into suspicion when he saw the cat that got the creme look on his friend's face. Upon being questioned her smirk only broadened. After a few seconds Harry connected the dots and his jaw dropped.

"You didn't just…?" Hermione nodded. Harry tilted his head in a way that Hermione swore didn't remind her of Hagrid's dog Fang. He paused for a long time before speaking.

"Just tell me one thing," Harry said with the exasperation of Professor McGonagall catching the same first year out of bed three times in one night, "if you're so bloody good at occlumency, why in the name of Merlin did I have to try to learn it from Professor Snape for so long?"

Hermione laughed good naturedly. "Right of passage?" She giggled and shrugged, prompting another disheartened head shake from Harry.

* * *

"Have I got the plot twist for you," Hermione announced as she entered Severus' bedroom that evening. Severus, bedecked in the reading glasses Hermione adored so much, looked up from his research with his signature eyebrow raise.

"I'm sleeping with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," The eyebrow got perilously close to his hairline. With the grace of a predator he rose from his desk.

"Pray tell, my dear, to whom you are referring. Unless Professor Umbridge has returned, in which case please excuse me while I am violently ill." At the mention of last year's hated professor Hermione's smooth facade broke into an unstifleable grimace. As soon as Severus saw her crack his stone face transformed into a warm smile. He approached her and pulled her easily into his arms.

"You, sir, are going to give me nightmares," she said tenderly as she kissed the end of his nose.

"You, madam, still have some explaining to do," he said, pulling her towards the bed while kissing down her neck. She managed to come out on top as they rolled down onto the bed, and she recounted her story, punctuating her sentences with longer and longer kisses to various parts of his face and torso.

"Leave it to Albus to tell wonderboy that I finally got the job before he tells me," Severus half complained as Hermione nibbled on his earlobe.

"Do you actually mind?" she asked into his neck.

"Do I mind getting the job? Not really. Dunderheads are dunderheads. It makes little difference to me if they are cursing each other or trying to blow each other up with cauldrons. Do I mind Albus constantly meddling in my affairs without the slightest care for my opinions or well being? You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I find myself constantly surprised by my ability to be irked by the man." Hermione stopped her kissing mid-track at the seriousness in his tone.

"Is there anything I can do to make it easier to bare?" she asked, looking him earnestly in the eye.

"Well, tell me more about this professor with whom you are apparently sleeping, for starters." His tone became joking once more.

"Technically we do _sleep_ together, and have done for some time now, but…" she trailed off.

"Yes, witch, you and your technicalities...wait, but?" Severus stopped short when his brain caught up to his mouth. He jerked suddenly to look up at the now-grinning witch propped above him on her elbows.

"I've been thinking, Severus, and…" she paused nervously, "would it be too much trouble if...I mean, would it be terribly inconvenient for you to...sod it all. I want you." She finished with a frustrated lurch. Severus had to fight off the urge to laugh, but apparently didn't do a good enough job as he soon found himself being assaulted with the pillow that had been ruthlessly yanked from under his head.

"I'm...thwack...being...thwack...perfectly...thwack...serious...thwack...you...thwack...arse….thwack!" Hermione punctuated her words with strikes that would have been deadly were her weapon not fashioned from goosedown.

"Desist, witch! Stop!" He flailed against her attacks for a moment before flipping her over and pinning the pillow and her hands above her head, pinning her body down with his own. She thrashed for a moment before stilling and looking him in the eye. The second their eyes met it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room.

"Are you serious?" he asked in a deep, rumbling tone that made her stomach clench and her blood pool in her gut. She swallowed before nodding slowly, never breaking eye contact. He searched her face for a few more seconds before she shifted her hips up to increase the friction between herself and a rather prominent reallocation of Severus' own bloodflow. At the sensation, it was if a rubber band snapped. His lips crashed into hers as he released her hands and wound his own in her hair, crushing her body into his.

With her last remaining thought before surrendering herself completely to the sensations coursing through her body, Hermione cast locking and silencing charms at the door.


	34. 34: Back to School

**Chapter 34: Back to School**

 **Ta da! Another chapter! I know it took two weeks again. Not to make excuses, but I did end up having an unexpected surgery last week and was in no state to be sitting at a keyboard. Again, no guarantees going forward, but I will not ever abandon the story and will try to go no longer than two weeks between chapters.**

 **Finally, I had one guest review to which (because it was a guest) I couldn't respond, but thank you for the SSHG story recommendations. Yes,** _ **When a Lioness Fights**_ **and** _ **Problem with Purity**_ **are two of my favorites, but** _ **The Last Spy**_ **was one I haven't come across before, so thank you for that gem. Anyone else who has any favorites definitely share with the class!**

 **And yes, I live to make my readers snort out loud in public places. Making you look crazy is my greatest pleasure.**

* * *

"Bloody hell, mate! What happened to you?" Ron Weasley's voice, almost an octave lower than it had been at the beginning of the previous year, sounded loudly across the platform at King's Cross Station. A bashful Harry Potter approached his redheaded friend quickly, more for volume control than out of excitement, and the two exchanged a manly embrace cum back slap. As Ron felt Harry's newly-acquired muscles through the material of his now quite well fitting tee shirt, his eyes widened and he gave Harry another once over.

"Seriously, though. First Hermione, now you, what have you just been doing pushups all summer?" _I see he hasn't lost his bluntness,_ Hermione mused as she silently and subtly levitated her trunk behind her as they began to approach the train. Seeing Harry's obvious -to everyone but Ron- discomfort, she decided to jump in.

"Nice to see you too, Ronald," she half shouted in jest. Upon hearing her voice Ron quickly glanced over to her briefly and leaned over to give her a side hug, but she noticed his eyes were still on Harry even as they hugged. They got settled into the train compartment and Hermione watched with interest as Harry and Ron performed a very male, very inarticulate attempt to redefine their friendship given Harry's new physical prowess. _Gods, this is worse than fourth year when Parvati stopped speaking to Lavender for a week because she grew breasts!_ She and Harry had prepared their stories, planning to blame Harry's transformation partially on his having spent the summer trapped with Hermione (who was going to claim to have extended her swottish tendencies to the realm of exercise and forced Harry to participate) and to pawn the rest off on puberty. Apparently, as usual, neither of them had appropriately allotted for Ron's competitive streak or insecurity. As they lapsed into another awkward silence, Hermione mentally revised her strategy and silently tried to will Harry to hear her. _Play the trump card, Harry, come on._

"So did you see that the Cannons got a new chaser from the Finnish league? Do you think they've got a shot at the Cup this year?" Harry asked with a perfect air of nonchalance. Unable to resist the proverbial and delicious cheese, Ron's eyes lost their skeptical slant and widened in excitement. _Snap goes the trap. Nice work, Harry. You're going to be alright._ Hermione thought with almost maternal pride as Ron launched into what promised to be a very long monologue about the technicalities of foreign recruits. Hermione's and Harry's eyes met for a flash, but in that second she managed to communicate her approval at his handling of the situation and he his pride at having successfully handled one of their first major hurdles of the year.

And with that settled, Hermione pulled out a heavy book and pretended to read while she reflected back on that morning.

* * *

 _Before she even opened her eyes, Hermione woke up happier than ever before. She could feel the warmth of Severus's bare chest beneath her cheek and could faintly hear his heart beating as he slept. She felt his arm twined tightly around her, his fingers linked over her, pulling her tightly to him as if he was trying, even in sleep, to make sure she didn't get away. As if she could think of anywhere else in the world she would rather have been._

 _She opened her eyes and slowly moved her head so she could look up at the man currently serving as her pillow. She was surprised to find his black eyes open and staring back at her, a look of worry displayed across his features._

" _How are you feeling this morning?" His voice was small and quiet, almost as if he was worried if he spoke quietly enough he could avoid a bad answer. "Any regrets?" At this hint as to the origin of his worry, a brilliant smile took over Hermione's face as she stretched up to give him a gentle, chaste kiss._

" _None whatsoever. In fact, I could get used to waking up like this every morning if it's all the same to you." At her words his worry was replaced by one of the rare, true, Severus smiles that made Hermione simultaneously want to melt into a little pile of gelatinous Hermione and run a marathon all at once. He buried his lips in her nest of bushy, post coital, tangles and pressed a long kiss to the top of her head._

" _My love, I believe that can be arranged," Severus almost purred in her ear, his velvety drawl back in full force. However, as Hermione suddenly jerked her head up to look at him, eyes wider than saucers, his worry returned._

" _Did you just...I mean was that just a...or did you mean…?" Hermione babbled the beginnings of several questions and the endings to exactly none of them before stopping in a lurch. Severus' face took on a serious expression, with underpinnings of a stoic effort to brace himself against an imagined future blow._

" _I would have thought last night's events would have made that fairly evident. I understand if the sentiment is not returned, but I am not one to just...why are you looking at me that way, witch? Is something about this funny?" She hadn't heard his acerbic Professor Snape sarcasm all summer, but still didn't completely manage to wipe the smile off her face. Nevertheless, she quickly clarified._

" _No! I mean, yes. I mean…" she took a deep breath, "I just thought I was the only one," she finished meekly, peering up at him through her lashes. His look of surprise was priceless._

" _You love me?" he asked with enough innocence and sincerity to almost break her heart. She nodded vehemently, triggering the happiest look she had ever seen on his face. His features almost transformed as the sheer joy seemed to take years off of his age, rendering him, in her opinion, jaw droppingly handsome._

" _I love you back, my Hermione." His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke and as soon as the words had left his mouth he dipped his head back into her mess of curls, squeezing her tighter than ever as he pressed another long kiss to the top of her head. She squeezed back, relishing the sensation of him holding her, the smell of Severus that…_

"HERMIONE!" two joined shouts finally jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find a perplexed Ron and an amused Harry staring quite pointedly at her. She allowed herself to blush as she grinned sheepishly at them.

"Blimey, we've been trying to get your attention for the better part of five minutes now. Is your book really that interesting?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yes, er, it's quite brilliant, actually. This author postulates that when dealing with nontraditional arithmantic matrices you-"

"Argh, spare me the details," Ron interrupted, "just come up for air every now and again, yeah?" Hermione nodded and Ron resumed his conversation with Harry. Harry, on the other hand, cast a questioning look at Hermione, eyebrows raised in a question she was not ready to handle just yet.

* * *

The welcome back feast was relatively uneventful, the sorting was fairly standard, their suitcases were unpacked, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at their standard couch in the common room. When Ron got up to go ask Seamus a question, Harry took advantage of the moment alone to scoot over to Hermione and whisper under his breath while pointing demonstratively at his school schedule for cover.

"What are we going to do about training here? I never thought I'd be saying this, but I think I might actually go spare without seeing Edgar every morning. What did you do all year last year?" his voice was so earnest and sincere, reminding her how far he had come from the petulant, moody schoolboy he had been at the beginning of the previous year.

"Actually, Severus and I have discussed this and, as long as you mind your manners he said you could train with us in the mornings. You'll have to get up fairly early, but he says you are ready to start combining your magical dueling and your physical combat."

The only indication Harry let slide to indicate his nervousness was the slide of his Adam's apple as he gulped.

"Don't worry, he hasn't killed me yet, Harry," Hermione stated reassuringly. Harry shook his head.

"That's not what I'm worried about. We actually made our peace this summer. I respect what he's doing and I know he only has our best interests at heart." Hermione smiled, but was still confused.

"Then what is it?" Harry paled visibly this time.

"I saw what happened with Moody. You're going to skin me and wear my hide as a headdress!" He broke out into his quintessentially Harry, lopsided grin as Hermione made a show of punching his shoulder. He gave an exaggerated yelp and rubbed the offended limb as Ron rejoined them.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Severus?" Hermione asked nervously as she leaned against his shoulder to keep her balance while performing her usual, pre-workout quad stretches. They were in the corner of Severus' beautiful, commandeered, tower gym. Harry was in the opposite corner stretching as he looked out the window at the Quidditch pitch. _Probably thinking how much his life has changed since he last set foot on a broom. And he doesn't even know the half of it._

"Don't you trust me, my love?" his voice was soft enough that Harry couldn't hear him but loud enough to send a thrill up her spine.

"Of course I do, but…" she paused to look over at Harry again, a look of worry still etched on her face. "He's just been through such a change this summer, and he handled it so well, but I don't want this to be the thing that finally makes him snap…" Her worry turned to exasperation as she saw Severus' trademark smirk aimed at her.

"What?" she asked in a huff. The smirk only grew.

"Nothing, Molly. But your little boy has to grow up some day." the smirk was now almost a grin. Or it was until she aimed a precise punch in the soft spot between his bicep and his tricep.

"You did NOT just invoke Molly Weasley! I am NOT that bad! I just worry that...stop smirking you git!" Another punch, this time to the other arm. "Fine. Let's throw Harry into even more chaos and confusion. It'll be fun!" He noticed the shred of sincerity behind her feigned snit and moved behind her to rub circles on her back and speak into her ear without attracting Harry's notice.

"Po- Harry has progressed a great deal this summer. If even I admit that he has transformed into a man, you have nothing to worry about. And with this new addition he will not only be an asset to us in the fighting department, but he can help with strategy and diplomacy. If we come out of this war with the right side victorious, he's going to be essential to the creation of a new social order that won't lead to the rise of a new Dark Lord in another generation. You know this is the right choice, and if it's sprung on him we can see how far he has truly progressed."

Hermione had to concede his point. He felt her shoulders relax slightly in acquiescence. She turned to face him and spoke quietly.

"And there's no part of you that's secretly hoping for front row seats to a fireworks show?" It was her turn for a raised eyebrow. Severus put on his most professional, haughty look of indignation.

"I'll admit to nothing of the sort." A breath later, "yes, Mister Potter?"

Hermione turned to see Harry standing tentatively behind her.

"Are you guys ready to get started? I'm about as stretched as I'm going to get."

"We are still waiting for one more party before we begin," Severus said formally as the bit of glass where they had entered turned back into a door. "Ah, there we are." Severus strode over and pulled on the large silver doorknob.

"Good morning, Mister Malfoy. Thank you for agreeing to join us."


	35. 35: The Blonde and the Redhead

**Chapter 35: The Blonde and the Redhead**

 **OMG a new chapter. Two weeks in a row. *Pats self on head***

 **I'll admit to having a shameful amount of fun writing the Harry and Draco bits. The Ron bit is a little Ron-bash-y, but it's not permanent. He just needs to go through the usual cycle of fly off the handle, repent, repeat.**

* * *

" _We are still waiting for one more party before we begin," Severus said formally as the bit of glass where they had entered turned back into a door. "Ah, there we are." Severus strode over and pulled on the large silver doorknob._

" _Good morning, Mister Malfoy. Thank you for agreeing to join us."_

After whipping around to see the bleach blonde hair of his rival emerging through the door, a mixture of Slytherin calm and Malfoy hauteur on his face, Harry scrunched his eyes shut and put his hand to his forehead, speaking without turning his back on Draco.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are my best friend in this world and I trust you with my life, but if you don't explain what Draco Malfoy is doing in this gym in the next ten seconds I will not be responsible for what my inner Ron says or does."

Severus smirked. Draco's mask of calm flickered, but stayed in place. Hermione was still wearing what Severus referred to as her 'fight or flight' face and started speaking very rapidly and very precisely.

"I approached him at the end of last year after his father was put in Azkaban, Harry. He came to me midway through the summer and let me know he wanted to switch sides. Since then he has been providing information to the Order about the Dark Lord's activities. He's one of us."

Harry had opened his eyes but was still pinching the bridge of his nose, "...and I assume, given the fact that he's in the same room as you and Professor Snape at the same time that means that you've done whatever tests you scary spy people do to make sure he's not a double agent, right?"

Hermione nodded rapidly. Severus' smirk grew. Draco now was regarding Harry like he was some kind of strange and rare plant in the back of the greenhouses. Harry took a deep breath, dropped his hand, then strode over to Draco and offered it to him. Draco now openly gaped at Harry as if he had grown an extra head, alternating looking at Harry's face and his outstretched hand.

"Welcome to the side of the light, then. It can't have been an easy decision to make, so as a Gryffindor I guess I have to admire your bravery. We've both given as good as we got, so I hope we can just summarily put the past in the past, if it's all the same to you." Harry's hand lingered unmet for a pregnant moment while Draco eyed it like a poisonous snake. Hermione had a another smile of not-too-far-from-maternal joy on her face. Severus still smirked. After what felt like ages, Draco took Harry's hand, his pureblood manners kicking in and adding an incline of his head, which Harry mirrored. The room took a collective sigh of relief.

They released hands and Harry now directed a question towards Professor Snape, "So now that he's here I guess I should know how far behind in training am I and how I'm to catch up?" Harry's voice was sincere, but his question still surprised Hermione, who spoke again in the measured, even tone one would use to calm a wounded but dangerous animal.

"What makes you think you're behind, Harry?"

Harry snorted with a small burst of laughter. "Whether or not he's chosen the right side, he's still been raised by Lucius Bloody Malfoy. And if he hadn't at least made it seem like he was aiming to become a Death Eater I assume he wouldn't be standing here, so he must have me beat at least in magical dueling skills, though I'd wager I could still take him in a muggle fight." Harry spoke matter of factly with no malice whatsoever in his voice.

"Harry, you're handling this really rationally. Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione's voice dripped with worry. Harry laughed again and turned to face Hermione.

"Okay, 'Mione, it's kind of doing a number on my ego that you're this surprised I haven't blown a gasket. Was I really that bad?" Everyone heard the loud snort that came from Draco's side of the room.

"I guess that answers that question then," Harry said with a good natured laugh. "Now will someone tell me exactly how behind I actually am before we get started?"

* * *

After two long, arduous hours of dueling, Harry and Draco sat next to the windows with conjured cups of Hermione's signature cucumber water (she called it _aguamenti with a twist_ ) panting and sweating heavily. Draco was attempting to stretch while Harry rolled out an ankle on which he had landed funny during their last fake duel. Both were clearly aware of the other's presence, but stared out the window so as not to call attention to their physical proximity.

"Why did you take my being her so calmly, Potter?" Draco asked at last, still not looking away from the window.

"Out there I assume we'll still have to sling insults and go on pretending to hate each others' guts, but maybe in here, when it's just us, it might make things simpler if you called me Harry."

"Okay then, Harry," Draco awkwardly choked out the name, "why did you take my being here so well?"

Harry took a long sigh before answering. "Five years in a row I was dead convinced that Professor Snape was helping Voldemort. Five years in a row I found out too late that I couldn't have been more wrong. I guess I'm not new to being wrong about Slytherins." Harry continued to gaze out at the Quidditch pitch. As the silence extended, he added offhandedly, "But if you tell me Gregory Goyle is a bloody ballerina please just keep the photos to yourself."

Draco choked on the water he was drinking. Harry finally broke his far off stare to glance at Draco as he sputtered with laughter and regurgitated cucumber water. After seeing Draco's response Harry joined in with a chuckle of his own.

"Merlin, you know how to put a man off his appetite!" Draco shook his head as the laughter faded. After the awkward silence began to creep back in, Draco spoke again, his face serene and his tone matter of fact, "Actually it's Crabbe who's got the dancing fetish."

Harry's head whipped around at light speed, his eyes wide as he tried in vain to assess whether Draco was being serious. After a well timed pause, Draco added another stone faced aside, "Crabbe's more into needlepoint and fine calligraphy."

It was Harry's turn to burst out in a coughing fit as he tried to suck in enough oxygen to fuel his laughter. To his own surprise Draco found himself joining in.

* * *

"Well I have to admit, that went surprisingly well," Hermione said as she reentered the common room between her apprentice chambers and Severus's rooms, fully-dressed but still toweling off her still-wet-from-the-shower hair. "Did you see them joking around like that at the end? I can't even remember the last time Ron made him laugh that hard!"

Severus, already sitting in his customary chair, smirked heavily at Hermione with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh do shut up," she said with a flirty laugh, coming to lite on Severus's lap, straddling to face him.

"I said nothing, witch," he protested as he began running his hands through her curls.

"Well, you were saying nothing very loudly. I could hear your 'I told you sos' from the shower." She dipped her head to kiss him. Minutes later when she finally managed to extricate herself to her own chair, she was wearing a matching smirk.

* * *

Hermione and Harry sat on their usual sofa in the common room, each with a book propped in their laps, discussing the different techniques of using spells in battle when physically exhausted versus using physical combat in battle when magically exhausted. Hermione was just about to show Harry the diagram she'd been constructing out of their research when a redheaded thundercloud stormed over to their table, red faced and clearly upset.

"What the hell, mate? Quidditch tryouts were today! Where were you?" Ron spat angrily.

"Um...Umbridge's ban still applies to me? You know I can't play Quidditch." Harry's statement held absolutely no vitriol and, in fact, a great deal of confusion.

"You still should have been there! I need your help picking the team. I thought with you being my best friend and all you'd be there to support me when I made captain. What are you two even doing that's so important, anyway?"

"We're just studying, Ron," Harry's subtle gesture to slide the parchment he was holding into his book apparently wasn't subtle enough. Hermione cursed in her head as Ron yanked it away from Harry.

"Oh, yeah, what class is this for, advanced dueling for psychopaths? Is this why you two are always together now?" Hermione saw Harry's ears redden as he began to respond, but her crisp, calm, but deathly serious tone cut him off.

"Yes, Ronald, that is why. Harry and I both realized at the end of last year that if he's going to have to face Voldemort he had better be prepared to do so. Do you remember how long you were in the hospital wing after the Ministry? Because I do. Fancy going back?" The last words were spit with a deadly venom and an ice cold glare that made Harry involuntarily shiver a bit. Ron, as usual, seemed unaware of the danger he had unleashed.

"You can't seriously be on about that again! He can't get into Hogwarts. All Harry has to do is not go running off into danger again and he's just fine," Ron's statement caused Harry's jaw to drop and Hermione's to tighten in rage.

"Harry is going to graduate some day. He can't stay here forever. And don't forget the people who are dying every day because that _psychopath_ is on the loose." Her face was now deathly pale as her rage glistened silently off her skin itself.

"Harry, come on, don't let little miss 'that new broomstick must be from Sirius and he probably cursed it' worry you. Come on. Let's go figure out next year's team." In her own rage Hermione hadn't noticed that Harry had gone silent. His face was no longer red. In fact, his face had no signs of human life at all. It was as if whatever cord tied Harry to his usual emotions had been somehow severed. _Gods, he looks like Draco all the sudden._ Harry stood up calmly and looked straight at Ron, still expressionless. When he spoke his words were measured, calm, and cold as ice.

"I don't think I will, thanks. And I don't think I'll be joining you in anything until you decide to pull your head out of your arse. Hermione was right about that broomstick Sirius gave me, and if I'd listened to her sooner then maybe Sirius wouldn't be in a coma right now. Go play your little game, Ron. I'll be here trying to figure out how to win a war."

And with that, Harry sat back down to face Hermione, turning his back to a still stuttering Ron.

"QUIDDITCH IS NOT A LITTLE GAME!" Ron shouted, alerting the entire common room to their now-finished conversation.

People muttered a bit as Hermione looked on passively and Harry didn't even turn his face on the furious redhead, but as nothing further happened and Ron eventually turned on his heel and stomped up to the boys' dormitory everyone slowly went back to their books and games of exploding snap. That night at dinner Ron ate with Seamus and Dean, the dirtiest looks he could muster falling on the turned heads of Harry and Hermione.

* * *

The next morning as the sweaty messes that only a few hours ago had been Harry and Draco stretched in the corner of Severus' gym, another deep silence fell over the former enemies.

"So I take it from last night's performance at dinner that you and Weasley had a falling out?"

Harry would have bristled at the topic, but something in the way Draco had phrased the question so properly and objectively, clearly trying not to offend, took the wind out of his sails. He let out a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to droop, shaking his head.

"I didn't go to Quidditch tryouts." Harry said bluntly.

"Ah," Draco feigned a knowing nod, "well to the gallows with you then." He paused for a second. "Aren't you banned from Quidditch?"

Harry nodded.

"Well then screw the gallows, I think the protocol dictates you to be drawn and quartered…" Harry couldn't help but laugh at Draco's dry wit. For a second he thought Harry would let the conversation drop, but Harry blurted out an explanation as if he couldn't help himself.

"It's like he doesn't see there's a war going on! People are literally dying and all he can think about is Quidditch, pranks, and trying to get out of homework!"

When Draco spoke it was with the soothing voice a mother uses to address a child's irrational fears, but without a hint of his trademark condescension.

"The war is very real to you, Harry. It's been real for us since we were able to understand what was going on. Hermione and Severus jumped in long ago. Maybe it's just not something Weasley can understand, coming from a loving, happy pureblood home on the side of the light. Someday something will give him the kick he needs to get it, but maybe he's just not ready yet…" Draco trailed off tentatively. You could almost see a trace of apprehension behind his pureblood manners. Almost.

Harry took a deep breath in and looked carefully at Draco. When he exhaled it was almost possible to see the weight leave his shoulders. "You're right. I guess I just wish he understood what I'm going through." Harry paused for a very uncomfortable second before awkwardly adding on, "er, what we're going through, rather".

Draco stopped inspecting his shoelaces to meet Harry's intense green eyed gaze and nodded. Harry nodded in return, then both went back to staring out the window as they finished stretching.


	36. 36: Practical Application of Legilimency

**Chapter 36: The Practical Applications of Legilimency**

 **Hi guys. *hides behind computer to avoid any projectiles being thrown in her general direction* My utmost apologies for the delay. I've been having a hard time finding my way with the plot here. I originally planned to have this story stick pretty closely to canon, with Hermione's training as the only change. HOWEVER, as I go along it turns out that, had Hermione gotten the extra training, it would have completely changed canon in ways I just can't ignore. So, after taking some time to wrestle with the muses and reengineer the plot, I am officially back and should (hopefully) return to a regular posting schedule. My apologies again for the gap, but you'll have a better story for it, I promise!**

 **Now, with that said, on with the show...**

* * *

Much to Severus' annoyment and Hermione's amusement, their morning training sessions had become a group affair. The entirety of Hermione's fifth year she had relished her mornings alone with Severus, training being the only time they got when they were not both focused on a million different things. However, since the dust had begun gathering on the bed in her official apprentice rooms she didn't have such a glaring dearth of alone time with Severus, so it was actually quite nice to have the two former enemies be a regular part of their morning ritual.

Since the first day when Severus sprung Draco's new allegiance on Harry, the two boys had actually become intriguingly close. Hermione often noticed Severus inscrutably blank look (the one that usually meant he was occluding his emotions while figuring out something he didn't want to be seen processing) when he was staring at the two when they sparred, debated the topic of the day, or just helped each other stretch.

One night after their respective homework and grading was drawing to a close, she asked him why their budding friendship perplexed him so. His only response was that it was interesting to see an intra-house friendship play out well between Slytherin and Gryffindor. After a few seconds Hermione had bought a clue that he was referring to his failed friendship with Lily and put a comforting hand on Severus' arm. After a few seconds he saw her face and covered her hand with his own, pulling her to face him.

"Hermione, you know I-" she cut him off.

"I know. You're remarkably un-Slytherin about declaring your feelings towards me. I know you're just wishing things hadn't ended badly." She looked into his dark eyes, trying to glean something about his emotions. She didn't have to look long, as a warm smile, the kind she only saw when they were alone, graced his lips and transformed his entire face.

"I'm…" he struggled to find the words, "...happy. With you. Now. For the first time probably ever." He punctuated his speech with a soft kiss to her captured knuckles. "The way I feel about you cannot be compared to anything I have experienced before. It's just interesting seeing the way our friendship could have gone."

Hermione nodded, "I know, love. But I think that for Harry and Draco it has only become possible because they are both living quite secret lives, ones which are directly contradicting towards everything they've ever believed or done."

Severus' head tilted slightly, "obviously that is the case for Draco, but Potter has always been on the side of the light. What do you mean?"

"Since the ministry Harry has had to grow up. Even you have admitted it. He turned his back on his best friend, quit procrastinating, embraced his studies, and began spending every spare second of his time preparing for the upcoming war rather than ignoring it. I think making friends with the only other person he could find going through that level of emotional turmoil makes perfect sense, in a weird way."

Hermione finished her long explanation and glanced at Severus' face to see how it had been received, only to burst out laughing, "You have got to stop looking like that when I make a good point. You look like you should have smoke coming out of your ears."

The ensuing mock glare only made her giggles intensify.

"Alright, you maddening witch, but don't make it a habit," he said, shaking his head.

She put up three fingers in a mock girl guides salute, a look of poorly-feigned seriousness on her face. Severus' glare returned as he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her off to bed, her giggles trailing after them.

* * *

It happened midway through one of their morning training sessions. Hermione had stayed up quite late reading a book on the military application of jointly performed spells she had just received via owl order from the colonies, so her occlumency shields were not at their best. Harry and Draco were discussing different methods of responding to a surprise attack. It was Draco's turn to try and attack Harry. He had been using a frontal approach, Malfoys never having been much for subtlety in making an entrance, when he took Harry by surprise, sending the same stinging jinx he had been using, only coming from the back of the room. Harry winced as he got hit and, after having successfully disarmed Draco, dramatically rubbed his lower back where Draco's spell had hit him.

Draco's drawl filled the room, "I know I got you good that time, but there's no need for dramatics, Harry."

"No, it just hurts when you come from behind like that," Harry muttered, now rubbing his hip.

 _Well that would certainly be a new development in their relationship,_ Hermione thought nastily to herself. However, as she giggled inwardly at her sarcastic comments, she glanced up at Severus, who was now looking at her with a look of shock on his face. She tipped her head at him, inquiring what was wrong without attracting the attention of the boys. He nodded to the door indicating that she should follow.

"We're going to go look up the wandwork for a new spell, boys. Can you behave yourselves until we get back?" Her inquiry was met by absentminded grumbles and off-hand waves as the two were staring fixedly at a conjured cluster of exes, circles, and arrows floating in the air, seemingly a diagram of the attack patterns they were trying to map out. She shook her head and headed out the door through which Severus had already disappeared. When she got to the other side he immediately grabbed her by the arm and led her to the sofa by the fire.

"What did you do in there?" He asked, facing her directly, his hands on each of her upper arms.

"Do what, Severus?" Hermione still felt in the dark, but could see the look of urgency in his eyes.

"I could hear your uncharitable comments about Draco and Mister Potter," he explained, looking her directly in the eyes.

 _He's gotten used to having Harry in his private gym of all places, but he still can't seem to manage a first name,_ Hermione thought as she tried to figure out just what Severus was talking about.

"I have years of experience snarling at Mister Potter, thank you very much, it's a very hard habit to break," Hermione's eyes bugged out as he responded to her inner comments, "now tell me, woman, what are you doing differently today?"

Hermione took a second to try to shake the fog from her brain to see what was happening before it hit her.

"I stayed up too late last night reading. I didn't think I was this bad off or I would have turned back for some extra sleep before training. My occlumency shields must be slipping. But why does that mean you can hear my thoughts? Were you trying to read me?"

"No, not specifically. I mean, I always keep a small pathway open so I can sense if you need help or if you are in danger, but I wasn't consciously trying to see anything. I wouldn't invade your personal space like that." Hermione shook her head absentmindedly, obviously already on to the next thought.

"No, I know you wouldn't, but you would go to pretty much any lengths to secure my safety, including, apparently, breaking some pretty fundamental rules in physics. Can you teach me how to keep this pathway open?" She was now caught up in the intensity of Severus' mood, though while his was still one of caution and worry, she had now switched into her 'excited researcher' persona.

* * *

An hour later they had established that if each of them each kept a tiny fraction of their mind focused on it, the same part of the brain one uses to remember they've left the water running or they need eggs at the market, they could effectively communicate mentally via their occlumency and legilimency skills.

 _We should get back to Potter and Draco before they destroy my gym or, worse, start creating unsavory explanations for what we could possibly be doing._ Severus communicated, not moving a muscle, other than his well-strengthened smirking muscles, which were working in overdrive as of their new discovery.

 _Yes, I'm sure Draco and_ Harry _are expecting us,_ Hermione responded, sending Severus the mental equivalent of an elbow to the ribs as she corrected Harry's name. He sent her what she could only surmise was a mental eye roll as they walked back towards the door to the gym.

When they got to the other side, the diagram Draco had previously conjured in the air in the far corner of the gym had tripled in size and was now covered in red, sparking handwriting to compliment Draco's original blue exes and arrows. There were moving parts and the two young wizards who had created it were obviously mid-debate, gesticulating wildly, and didn't even notice that Hermione and Severus had reentered the room.

"Eh ehm." Severus cleared his throat loudly, eyebrows both in high salute as he surveyed the two boys.

"Oh, hi guys," Harry said in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion, "I didn't hear you come back in. That was quick."

Hermione's eyebrows performed a shocking imitation of Severus', "um, Harry, we've been gone for more than an hour. Have you two really been doing…" she gestured vaguely to their still-moving diagram, "...whatever this is for that long?"

Harry looked over at Draco, who shrugged as they both nodded. Then, with a start, Draco cast a tempus charm, jumped up, grabbed his towel, and started shoving his feet back into his shoes.

"I still have to shower before I get to ancient runes! Crabbe and Goyle think I'm in the bloody library, so I need to get back in time to look like I was studying instead of wrestling an angry hippogriff."

And with that, he charged out of the door, eliciting twin smirks of amusement from Hermione and Severus.

 _I don't think I've ever seen him run before,_ Hermione remarked to Severus, trying not to grin as she utilized their new skill.

 _It's not a common pastime in the Malfoy family. They're more prone to a solid saunter,_ Severus replied without batting an eye.

"So...breakfast?" an oblivious Harry recommended, offering Hermione his arm in a gesture of fake chivalry. Hermione shot Severus the closest she could muster to a sigh and a mental kiss on the cheek as she took Harry's arm and left the gym.

She was almost out the door before her mind was overwhelmed with what she was certain was a full force hug. She was still smiling as they entered the great hall.


	37. 37: The Memory

**Chapter 37: The Memory**

 **Okay, I missed two weeks, but only by a day! Hopefully, a little longer of a chapter will appease you?**

* * *

"I know you're working on it, Harry, but really the clock is ticking," Hermione half-chided late one night over their books.

"I just can't get him to divulge anything. I'm in his bloody club, he slobbers all over me during class, but when I ask him about the memory he clams up and runs away. Once last week he literally ran, Hermione. I don't know what to do." Harry watched as Hermione's face displayed the traces of an emotional battle. A year ago he would have been able to see the whole thing played out across her features in a comically-exaggerated fashion as she thought, but now her expression gave him just the wisp of a hint that she was pondering something troublesome. Even so, he could only tell because of how well he knew her. _I'm surrounded by Draco, Hermione, and Severus...when are my Slytherin superpowers going to kick in?_

Hermione's voice jolted Harry from his thinking, "Do you mind if I give it a go?"

Harry laughed softly before he realized she was serious. "No offense, Hermione, I know you're basically Supergirl by now, but he doesn't seem to like you as much as he likes me. Boy who lived and all. What makes you think he'll act any differently when you ask?"

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "I wasn't planning on asking, actually."

The look on her face made Harry very grateful that she was on their side.

* * *

"Horcruxes?" Severus' face twisted into a mixture of disgust and dread.

"Seven of them, apparently," Hermione answered seriously, sipping her tea.

"That's almost disturbing enough to make me forget to reprimand you for using legilimency on a teacher," he said dryly.

"Oh come off it, Severus. It was during class, he was staring at Harry anyway, so it wouldn't have been a surprise for his mind to have gone there naturally. He never noticed a thing. I was trained by the best." She finished with a seductive wink that finally broke Severus' stony face into a small smile.

"Fine, witch, have it your way, but don't come running to me when Dumbledore finds out."

"He won't," she said poignantly into her teacup, eyes peeking bashfully up at Severus over the rim.

"You didn't," he said with incredulous eyes and an accusing tilt of his head.

"Well, I didn't want him to think Harry was involved. I didn't obliviate anything more than just the memory of me watching it. It'll just feel as though he had a daydreaming spell while we brewed. He'll never miss those 20 seconds anyway." She ended defensively as Severus shook his head.

"It is a good thing you are of muggle descent, my dear, or I fear I might have had the misfortune of being your head of house all these years." Hermione blushed at the Snapeish compliment.

"Now, how are we supposed to deal with these Horcruxes? Since Albus asked Harry to find the memory, I can only imagine he knows something about the matter. Should we schedule a meeting?" Hermione asked, getting back to topic.

"You should let Potter schedule the meeting with Albus. it'll be much more fun if you and I just happen to tag along, Even better if we bring Draco" he said with an evil smirk.

"Severus Snape, you really do live to wind that man up, don't you?"

Severus shrugged, "it's the little things, my love." It was Hermione's turn to shake her head.

* * *

After a few seconds of confusion when Hermione told Harry she and Severus would be tagging along to his meeting with Dumbledore, Harry's face lit up into an expression of surprise, both at Hermione's (and Severus') plan and the audacity thereof. "You guys really want to blindside the headmaster? Are you sure that's a wise choice?"

Hermione's mischievous grin was the only response she needed to convey her thoughts on the matter. Harry gave another of his theatrical shudders and shook his head, "It's your funeral. They know to meet us there, I assume?"

* * *

The look on Albus' face when the four of them came in, one by one, like a line of ducks was something Severus promised himself he would immediately put in the greatest hits section of his Pensieve. He gave Harry the cursory nod, then gave Hermione a quick double take, a look which progressed to a heavy glare upon seeing Severus, and transitioned into open hostility when Draco waltzed in like he owned the place in true Malfoy fashion.

"Severus," it was stated as an accusation and a warning, simultaneously.

"Don't look at me, Albus. I'm just here for the lemon drops," Severus intoned with a dry look.

"Harry, I thought I had conferred upon you the importance of keeping this task a secret," Dumbledore said, aiming his guilt trip at the only party who could realistically be affected by it. However, as Harry colored slightly, Hermione was the one to actually answer him.

"Albus," she said, drawing herself up to her full height, shedding her schoolgirl facade, suddenly seeming a great deal older than either her chronological or actual age, and attracting a look of apprehension from Harry, one of concealed surprise from Draco, and a smirk that reeked suspiciously of pride from Severus. "You asked Harry to convince a professor to give you a memory, I was the one who was eventually able to retrieve it, and given the content of the memory and the implications thereof, Severus and Draco would eventually need to be looped in on the matter anyway. Let's skip past the initial outrage and straight to the part where we figure out a plan, shall we?"

A silent stare-off ensued that made Harry obviously squirm in his seat. Draco brushed imaginary lint off of his robes. Severus, on the other hand, had a look that bordered on glee. When Albus finally gave Hermione a curt nod and waved them to sit down he looked like he had been inches away from putting his feet up and conjuring some muggle popcorn. When Hermione gave Albus a respectful nod and Albus resumed his grandfatherly twinkle, Hermione could almost have sworn she saw the hint of a pout on her lover's face.

"So, it appears I have some catching up to do," Albus began with only a hint of irritation in his voice, "care to catch me up, Harry?"

* * *

An hour later they had almost come up with a plan. Despite Albus' initial protests, it was clear that each of the four parties would play an integral part in the Horcrux hunt. Dumbledore came clean about the Gaunt ring, his foolish attempt to wear it, and its eventual destruction. He also let them know of one other possible location but said didn't have the full details yet. Harry asked immediately about the diary from their second year, confirming the destruction of the second Horcrux. Hearing about Slytherin's ring Draco mentioned Voldemort's predilection towards hoarding historically significant objects and suggested that he might have used items from each of the founders of Hogwarts, at which time Severus scoffed at the idea of the Dark Lord touching anything that belonged to Gryffindor, but put forth the idea of Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem and the famed cup of Helga Hufflepuff. When he said cup Draco perked up visibly and said that he had seen a cup in his father's study the past summer that had been left in his charge by the Dark Lord to have Narcissa put in the Black vault in Gringotts on Bellatrix's behalf.

"So that leaves two more then, right?" Harry said, rubbing his head in exhaustion.

"One, technically," Hermione corrected offhandedly.

"How so?" Harry looked up, confused.

It was Draco's turn to pipe in, "well I think we're assuming he kept one-seventh in his current snakelike excuse for a body I guess." At this point, Severus' eyes snapped up.

"That's it."

"What's it, Severus?" Hermione asked, all attention focused on Severus.

"You said his current snakelike form. He has two snakelike forms, right, Draco?" Hermione couldn't help but noting that Severus had slipped into the rhetorical questions he usually used to drive home a point in potions class. Draco, however, took the bait and ran with it.

"Nagini. I knew there was something wrong with that snake." He shuddered, though this one was the genuine article, not like Harry's fake shudders. This one was the authentic visual of Draco's body physically trying to rid itself of what appeared to be a horrible mental image. "It has to be the snake. She follows him everywhere, she's obviously more than a pet to him, she's too intelligent even for even the smartest animal. I knew it."

Something in his tone made Hermione quite sure she didn't want to know what exactly Draco had seen the snake do to elicit that strong of a response.

"So that's it, then?" Harry said mildly, "two down, five to go?"

Dumbledore began to nod, but Severus spoke up before he could usher them out, "Not just yet, Albus. Are you going to tell them or should I?"

The elder wizard's eyes flashed fire as he turned to Severus. However, the Slytherin was unfazed and stared back with a look of icy, petulant contempt.

"Tell us what?" Hermione's voice broke the heavy silence.

"Tell you about the eighth Horcrux," he stated flatly.

"What do you mean?" Draco questioned. "I thought the memory clearly stated seven?"

Severus looked at Dumbledore, seemingly daring him to speak. As the time passed, both became angrier and angrier in their silent stares until Harry and Draco looked at each other, silently trying to assess the likelihood that the two elder wizards would break out into a duel in the middle of the headmaster's office. Finally, without breaking eye contact with Severus or lowering the intensity of his look which, if any ever could kill would have been a top contender for most lethal, Albus spoke. His words were steady and measured but filled with the slow, seething type of anger that was usually Severus' strong suit.

"When Voldemort killed your parents, Harry, it is my belief that he unintentionally created an eight Horcrux. HIs soul splintered when the curse rebounded and the split fragment lodged itself in the only other living thing it could find." He stopped as if this answered everything.

"Me," Harry said quietly. It wasn't a question. In fact, his face looked more like this had answered some great mystery he had long been grappling with. In fact, as Draco observed the messy-haired Gryffindor receive what seemed like life-ruining news, he could have sworn that Harry looked a little bit relieved.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore responded, sounding less angry and more paternal, but still nowhere close to manifesting his usual twinkle.

"That's why I can talk to snakes. That's why I'm so angry all the time. That's why I can see what he's doing when he gets really excited or really angry," Harry paused, still looking a mixture of relieved and pensive. "You don't know how to get it out without killing me." Again, it was not stated as a question. After ten years of mistreatment by the Dursleys and five years of Voldemort trying to kill him, Harry didn't seem to be terribly shaken at the idea of his certain death. For a brief second Draco was hit by just how hard his former rival's life must actually have been if he was this nonchalant at the idea of his own demise.

"No, my boy. I don't."

And then Hermione hit the ceiling.

"The bloody hell you don't, you manipulative old coward!"

All heads turned towards the chair that had only moments ago held a mousy schoolgirl, passively taking notes. It had toppled back as Hermione jolted herself out of it, standing taller than she actually was with the body posture of an enraged Amazon.

"This boy has followed every order you have ever given him without a doubt or a moment of hesitation! He lost his parents because you failed to protect them, he was raised by monsters because you couldn't be arsed to find a better way to keep him safe, he has fought Voldemort four times in five years under your watch, and I will be damned if you allow a hair on his bloody head to be harmed because you're too wrapped up in the greater good to sit down and research the thing that would save him!"

As she spoke she slowly began to bear down on Albus. As her monologue went on her bushy hair began to blow behind her, swept by a breeze that didn't touch any of the other bodies in the room. As she got within a few feet of Albus her mane actually began emitting small red sparks between the individual strands. The air was heavy with unintentional magic as she came to stare directly into Albus' expressionless face. The crackling of her hair was the only sound in the room as she stared at him with a truly Snape-like look of disdain.

"You disgust me, Albus. I'll do it myself."

And with that, she turned on the spot and strode purposefully from the room.

"I'm going to go ensure she stops sparking before she runs into any students," Severus said, taking his leave and not trying to hide his amusement. Harry and Draco followed, making no excuses but nodding respectfully as they passed the still silent headmaster.


	38. 38: An Army of Researchers

**Chapter 38: An Army of Researchers**

 **Wow! Either you guys really don't like Dumbledore or you really do like angry Hermione. Noted. I'm not actually sure where the sparking hair came from (or I would totally give credit where it's due), but I've seen it in a few fics now, so I guess I've just decided it's now canon...**

* * *

Severus didn't end up catching Hermione until she was already back in their adjoining rooms. His first sign of worry was the fact that the door to her apprentice quarters was shut. Since they had first come back from their summer at Grimmauld place she had basically invaded his quarters, much to his immense pleasure. Her books were strewn around his private sitting room, her favorite clothes had invaded his closet, and her muggle shampoo and conditioner had pushed his to the back of the shelf in his shower, a gradual takeover process he felt like he should mind a great deal more than he actually did. In reality, he found it immensely reassuring that this amazing witch had decided he was worth consorting with, and the constant reminders of her socks abandoned in his bedsheets and her hairs on his shower drain only served to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere.

However, when he got back to their rooms that night he found the door to her apprentice rooms shut. Upon further investigation it was both shut and locked. After another minute or so of prodding, he came to the conclusion that it had also been warded so strongly that it would take the entire team of Gringotts curse breakers a month to even hope to make a dent. _When did she learn to ward with the Elder Futhark runes? Those aren't even part of the Hogwarts curriculum!_ So, after another minute or so of poking and experimentation he performed an action the great Severus Snape had not had to do since he was a third year.

He knocked on the door.

Hermione's voice immediately called out telling him she would be there in "just a minute", but it was not her voice that alarmed him. It was the noise of scuffling, muffled footsteps, and the eventual quiet closure of what he was sure had to be her bathroom door that made him worry. When Hermione came to the door, her hair was a mess, almost rivaling his in greasiness. In fact, he could have sworn he could see the broken nub of a quill sticking out of the sloppily-constructed bun on the back of her head. More alarming, something was just slightly off about her body posture. She had made a great deal of progress in hiding her overt, Gryffindor tendencies. But this was Severus Snape, the only man who could regularly lie to the Dark Lord and escape unscathed, master spy, and head of the house of Slytherin. He could tell that she was hiding something even before he noticed the obvious.

"Hermione, that isn't what you were wearing only moments ago," he commented dispassionately.

She colored and looked sheepishly down at her ripped muggle jeans and oversized jumper. When her eyes met his again he could see turmoil bordering on pain in their depths. He was trying to formulate a way to ask her what was wrong when she spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, a mix of accusation and betrayal in her voice.

"Tell you what?"

"About Harry being a horcrux. Why didn't you tell me?" her voice sounded younger than he had heard it in some time. After only a second of hesitation he realized what she had been thinking and pulled her into an embrace.

"Hermione, I only put the pieces together in Albus' office. When we figured out that Nagini was one of the horcruxes was the first I had ever considered a horcrux could have a living host. All the sudden it clicked why it had been necessary for me to give Harry those bloody occlumency sessions." He pulled back to look at her face. The subtle ink stains on her face were beginning to run as silent tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Oh you silly girl," he stated with obvious affection as he pulled her in to himself again, talking now through her hair somewhere in the vicinity of the top of her head, "I know Potter and I don't have the best relationship, but I know how much he means to you. I would never keep something like that from you!"

He heard her sobs increase in magnitude at this, but her arms grew tighter around him, so he just held her while she emptied her emotions (and tear ducts) onto the right shoulder of his robes. When the shaking stopped, she looked embarrassedly up at him, wiping her face. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Feel better?"

"Yes. Thank you, Severus. I should have known you wouldn't keep me in the dark like that."

"Yes, you should have. But now I do have a very important question for you, one to which I think I already know the answer."

Hermione grimaced and shut her eyes, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. However, Severus used one hand to brush her to the side and, stepping partially into her apprentice rooms, raised his voice towards the bathroom.

"Could you all come out now?"

* * *

Harry was sitting in the dark of Severus' empty gym staring out at the moonlit quidditch pitch below when he heard footsteps behind him. His newly-honed reflexes had him standing up in fighting stance, his wand pointing between the eyes of a barely-ruffled Draco Malfoy. He stood there breathing heavily for a second, adrenaline still rushing from being surprised, before he dropped his wand and sat back down facing out the window, back to the newly-arrived Slytherin.

"What do you want, Draco?"

The blond approached him slowly and tentatively, "well, I know things aren't exactly simpatico between you and the ginger menace, so I figured I might find you here. You don't seem much like a 'hide in the library' type bloke to me."

"Yeah, I came here to be alone," he said with a tiny hint of his sulky alterego from the past year. Apparently Draco didn't get the memo, as he finished padding over to Harry's corner of the gym and plopped down next to him.

"Um, coming here to be alone kind of implies me wanting to be alone?" Harry said with more confusion than malice in his voice.

"Just because you want to be alone doesn't mean you should be, you moron. You just found out that you've been playing host to one eighth of the soul of one of the most evil wizards on the planet for the last decade. You think I'm going to leave you with only your own company for counsel? Merlin knows what madness you'd come up with."

Harry looked over at Draco with surprise and confusion on his face. Draco allowed himself to be inspected, pretending not to notice and continuing to stare intently at the quidditch pitch. After a moment Harry let out a deep breath and seemed to deflate, his shoulders relaxing, his back losing its unnatural straightness, and his arms wrapping around his knees.

"That's just the thing. I always knew there was something dark inside me. I've been this way as long as I can remember. I always just thought it was something inside me. Something wrong. Like that was why I deserved all the bad things that kept happening to me, because I had this dark side. I guess I just can't help feeling like it's a part of me now, that that's the reason he can't take it out."

There was a moment of silence before Draco gave his measured response, "you know of the two of us, I'm the only one that's ever spent time with the Dark Lord. You know, when he wasn't trying to kill me."

Harry looked at him as if to ask why that mattered. Draco gave a haughty, Malfoy roll of the eyes and continued.

"You know what the Dark Lord does when someone irritates him? Not just anyone, but someone he's really close to?"

Another confused nod from Harry.

"He crucios them. Not a little bit, not a reminder, a prolonged bout of the cruciatus curse. He knows just how long he can go before the person's mind caves and he slowly increases the tolerance threshold of each of his 'friends' until they can go sometimes for hours without actually turning into mush upstairs."

"Your point, Malfoy? This isn't exactly making me feel better over here."

"Your two best friends are a muggleborn and the person who has to be the single most trying individual in the history of the wizarding world. You've tolerated Weasley's moods, his inane quidditch obsession, his emotional disabilities, and his horrible wardrobe for six years now. And that's _with_ the handicap of having a sliver of raging lunatic in your brain. If you've got the friends you have with part of your brain being occupied by that madman, well, if you ever tell anyone I said this I'll deny it and then hex your face off, but the part of your brain that's actually you must be a bloody saint."

Harry peered sideways at Draco as if he had grown an extra head.

"What?" Draco asked indignantly. "I can say nice things."

Harry made a face and muttered under his breath, "I never doubted your _ability_ …"

"Hey!" Draco proclaimed in mock outrage, elbowing Harry in the ribs as they both laughed. As the laughter died down, another heavy silence took over. They both stared out the window for minutes on end before Harry's soft voice rang out, despite being barely more than a whisper.

"You do think they'll be able to get it out, right?"

Draco paused for a minute before answering with the traditional Malfoy nonchalance, "you're forgetting one major factor in this."

"What's that?"

"We've got Hermione Sodding Granger, researcher extraordinaire on our side."

Harry burst into laughter and Draco quickly joined him.

"That girl is a bloody menace," Harry said, trying to catch his breath. "Did you know she set Snape on fire in our first year?"

Draco doubled over, "that was her? Oh he was livid for weeks! We started hiding in our rooms so he would stop taking points off of us for breathing too loudly in the common room! Man…" he paused to wipe his eyes.

"And in our second year she brewed polyjuice potion in the middle of a girl's lavatory."

"No...that's way to advanced for a...wait! I knew that was you! Why in the name of Merlin's hairy toes would you fools want to break into the Slytherin common room to talk to me?"

"Well at the time it was very apparent that you were the heir of Slytherin, so…"

Draco actually snorted at this one, "you have _got_ to be kidding me. Why wasn't Hermione with you? I can't see her sitting that one out willingly."

Harry grimaced through his laughter, "well she'd absolutely murder me for telling you this, so I'll just say that she definitely didn't accidentally grab a cat's hair from Millicent Bulstrode's robes, so she definitely wasn't in the hospital wing waiting for them to get rid of her whiskers and tail."

Draco was now turning bright red with laughter and Harry was having a hard time breathing. Once he could get words out Draco spoke again, "dId I tell you about the time she punched a bloke in our third year?"

It was now Harry's turn to snort, "you know, I think I might have heard something like that, but I heard he was a total tosser, so I'm sure he deserved it."

Draco straightened up haughtily, "Tosser? Try innocent bystander."

"Oh don't even try to pull that card, Malfoy!" Both boys dissolved once more into giggles as Draco feigned an enraged pout. As the laughter died away, a comfortable silence stretched over the room.

"Thanks, Draco."

"That's what the heir of Slytherin's here for, Harry. We just live to serve."

* * *

Upon hearing Severus' voice the Hermione in front of him winced and proceeded to walk over to her bathroom door. Shooting him an apologetic look, she opened it and slowly, one by one, seventeen different Hermiones came filing out. As Severus watched the parade, he was torn between horror at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, amusement at Hermione's audacity, and a small fraction of the very male side of his brain that couldn't help but wonder about the various possibilities multiple Hermiones could provide in a romantic context. After shaking off all thoughts but a mild sense of amusement, he addressed the group of nervously-shifting Hermiones as he would a class of first year students.

"This will only be a surprise to one of you, but if you all would please remain in this room, keep it down, and could the oldest Hermione please accompany me out into the realm of reality?"

A very tired-looking Hermione emerged from the back of the pack wearing a green jacket, ink-stained pants, and a sheepish look on her face. They sat down on the couch and Hermione wasted no time in plastering herself against Severus's side, nudging herself under his arm until it fell around her shoulders. He was momentarily confused until her reasoning hit him.

"It's been approximately five minutes since I last saw you in Albus' office. How long, pray tell, has it been since you last saw me?" he asked with a mild chuckle.

"It's been about three weeks since it was my turn to open the door and talk to you when you knocked. Another four and a half weeks before that," she said pressing herself even tighter to his side and nuzzling into his shirt, "I missed you."

"Merlin on a motorbike, you've been researching Potter's bloody scar-crux for almost two months since our meeting ended five minutes ago?" The brown mess of curls snuggled against his chest nodded.

"I imagine if you finally deigned to come out of hiding you must have found something then?" he said incredulously.

"Well, to some extent. I think I've finally gotten to a sticking point. I'm not sure why this was when I decided to stop. I knew from when I first entered my room and saw all of me researching this would end at some point, so each day I kind of knew my schedule based on what I had seen that version of me do the day before. I really don't want to think it would be determined by something so mundane as this, but I had noticed that, between all of the different Hermiones this was my very last pair of pants. All the other ones were already occupied. You probably shouldn't think too hard on it...it does bend the mind a bit," she added matter of factly.

Severus couldn't stop an incredulous laugh. "Just a bit," he said, kissing her hair. "So what have you found and how can I aid in unsticking you?"

And with that, she launched into an explanation of her research, her findings, and what she still had to figure out. A half an hour, after the fourteenth yawn, he unceremoniously shut the book in front of her and scooped her up in his arms, eliciting an undignified squawk from the startled witch.

"What are you doing, Severus! Put me down!"

"No," he said flatly, carrying her towards the bedroom. "It may not have been more than a few hours for me, but it has been far too long since I was able to ensure you got a proper night's sleep. While this is an immensely important matter, it is not so urgent that you get to neglect your sleep. Even if you figured it out now we'd still be waiting until we found the rest of the horcruxes."

His logic was solid, and now that she was in sight of the bed it did look quite tempting. She protested minorly when he passed the bed, but submitted immediately when it became clear he was carrying her towards the bathtub. He filled it wandlessly with delicious smelling bubbles and steaming water, summoned a pair of her pajamas from his room, and informed her he would be back in to collect her himself if she wasn't out in half an hour.

Thirty one minutes later she was curled up in his bed, her back pressed against his chest, wondering just how she had managed to sleep for the last seven and a half weeks without Severus' smell and warmth. She was just dozing off as his velvety voice brought her back to consciousness.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Promise me you'll never do that again."

"You realize if I have to do that again I likely won't have a choice, right?"

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Promise me you'll never do that without me again."

"I promise."


	39. 39: New Developments

**Chapter 39: New Developments**

 **Okie dokie, moving forward. This is a short one (because after writing a 50 page paper in the last week the last thing I've had time for is more writing), but I wanted to at least get something out to you guys for being so patient. We're getting on with the plot, so we're getting a new character in this chapter. (Not an OC, just someone who hasn't made their debut yet.) If you've read as much HGSS or Dramione as I have you've probably seen this pairing before. Apologies for the lack of creativity, but the more I think of it the more it just makes sense...**

* * *

Ron was heading back to the common room after another stealthy, late night Quidditch session at the pitch. It still wasn't the same without Harry joking and laughing by his side (not to mention the fact that he had gotten used to the safety of Harry's invisibility cloak for their less-than-sanctioned nighttime outings), but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he half rushed, half snuck through the hallway by the dungeons. He was just about to head up the stairwell when he smelled the faint odor of alcohol from a hidden nook behind one of the statues. He wouldn't have known about that particular alcove if Fred and George hadn't told them how they had hidden there to charm Umbridge's shoes back to "a more respectable color" as she walked by. (According to Fred and George, the makers of flamingo flambe sauce, which made the unlucky recipient sprout feathers over every square inch of their body, there were still _some_ limits on how much pink a person should be allowed to wear.)

As Ron peered cautiously behind the statue, an armour-clad goblin with an angry look on his face, he saw nothing but an empty floor. However, he hadn't grown up the youngest male Weasley for nothing. He knew that disillusionment charms focused on sight and sound, but were very hard pressed to completely block out the smell of whatever they were hiding. He performed a few quick spells and soon could make out the faint shimmer of a disillusionment charm. A few more incantations later the smell doubled and he began hearing the faint sound of what sounded like sobs. As he brought down the last concealment charm, his jaw hit the floor as he looked down at the sight before him.

Sprawled on the floor with one shoe on, one off, mascara stains on her white uniform shirt, and a mostly-empty bottle of firewhiskey in one hand sat none other than the ice queen herself. He knew Pansy Parkinson had to be pretty far in her cups because she didn't look up, even as he brought down her protective charms. Instead of a wand to the forehead, the usual response he would expect when accidentally surprising a Slytherin in a moment of privacy, he was greeted with a brief sob and a muttered plea to turn the lights back off.

Under any other circumstance, he would have been delighted to catch the haughty Slytherin off guard, but something about seeing Pansy so far from her normal, buttoned up self completely took him aback. He looked down at her tear-stained cheeks and shoulders still heaving with the force of her sobs and he knew he would never be able to properly hate the girl ever again. In fact, he found himself kneeling down next to her and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Er, Pansy, are you okay?" he said lamely, only realizing what a stupid question it was after the words left his mouth. She seemed only to register his presence when she heard his words. She took a deep, shaking breath as her sobs stopped momentarily and her eyes flew to his hand on her shoulder. After taking a second to process the hand, she traced her eyes up his arm and up to his face. When she got to his eyes he saw her take a few seconds to get her eyes to focus. When she finally cognized who owned the hand on her shoulder she let out one more sob and drooped like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly severed.

The firewhisky had obviously taken it's toll on her faculties as she hiccupped quite frequently as she spoke, "Of _course_ it would be a sodding *hic* Weasley. Just *hic* perfect. Don't you have a *hic* family meal to attend? Or a *hic* quidditch game to play with your *hic* eight billion siblings? Maybe you're *hic* late to sit in a circle and make *hic* up pet names for each other?"

This was very strange to Ron. In his six years of dealing with Slytherins he had experienced a full spectrum of insults to come from the woman's mouth. She could have gone with one of the classics, deriving his lack of wealth, status, class, or designer name clothing. If she felt like one of the B-sides she could have started on his ginger hair, apparent lack of hygiene (which had always perplexed him…he certainly showered regularly enough in his opinion), or if she was feeling really creative something about his lack of accomplishments relative to Bill or Charlie. However, attacking him for having siblings and family meals was just odd, even for Slytherin standards.

He gaped at the witch on the floor, who was currently failing quite spectacularly in her attempt to twist back on the firewhisky cap, mostly because she was trying to put it on the wrong end of the bottle. After a moment of thought, he surprised himself by reapplying some of the privacy spells she had previously utilized and plopping unceremoniously down next to her, taking the bottle and cap out of her hands. Her eyes widened and she nodded a drunkenly-exaggerated nod of understanding at his infinite wisdom as he screwed the cap on to the correct end of the bottle. Her head continued wobbling precariously after it was clear the nod should have ended. Reaching forward to secure her discarded shoe, Ron began putting it back on her slender foot. While he began to tie her laces, and without looking up from the shoe, he finally dared to speak.

"What happened, Pansy?" He heard a little sniff as his question brought her back to the apparently horrible reality that had driven her into a drunken corner in the first place.

"Nope. Nothing *hic* happened." She again shook her head vehemently enough to induce a worrying wobble. "It's not going to happen. My father is not *hic* going to be a decent human being, or at least one with a spine, that is...a switch or a belt he has, but a spine is the elusive, mythical creature he just can't seem to capture for the likes of him...he should try an accio because accio spine might work for him, dunno never tried it myself but then again I have a spine thank you veryverymuch *hic*, so off to the home I go because daddy says come, and it doesn't matter that I'll never sit my NEWTS, because why would you need NEWTS, because how will that help you in...oh maybe they should have a newt in marrying fat old death eater men so they don't take your baby sister instead, because apparently no doesn't mean no anymore when you're their bloody wife, even if you're eight sodding years old, but I heard this one likes it when you fight back, so at least there's that, yes they should probably have a NEWT in forced pureblood wifery, but argh what a god awful examination that might be and I wonder if they'd actually make you spawn a little pureblood baby right there in the examination room, no *hic* they can't possibly have enough tiny blankets for that…I wonder to whom one must speak to procure lots of tiny-"

She stopped mid-sentence, looking up at Ron as if she had just realized that he was there. When her eyes focused in on his face her expression transformed from the animated sarcasm that had accompanied her drunken rant to the most heart-rending, childlike sadness he had ever seen. His heart broke as a silent tear rolled down her flushed cheek and before he could help himself he was reaching out to wipe it off. He paused to stroke her cheek, trying not to think about how soft it was as he wiped the tear before it could reach her chin. When his fingers met her face, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his hand the way an abused animal would that of its rescuer. After a few heartbreaking seconds of complete stillness, in which she seemed to be trying to pull all the comfort she could from his hand, she opened her eyes and a fresh batch of tears emerged. With a disconsolate innocence that held more sadness than should be able to fit in just one face, she looked right into his eyes and spoke a clear, soft plea.

"Please don't make me get married."

And with that she slumped, unconscious to the floor.

Ron's quidditch reflexes were fast enough that he was able to catch her just before her head hit the stone. Looking around helplessly for a second, he gathered her up into his arms, disillusioned the pair of them, and stood up. The sleeping witch's head flopped onto his chest and brought with it a level of comfort he felt horrible from having derived from someone in so much obvious agony. As he looked down at her sleeping features, the scowling, Slytherin ice queen was almost unrecognizable. _Beautiful._ He couldn't stop the word from bouncing around in his head. He started down the hallway, now aiming not towards the Gryffindor dorms, but towards Hermione's apprentice quarters where he knew she and Harry now spent most of their time.

As he walked slowly down the hall, the unconscious Slytherin's head still resting on his chest, he realized what a mess he'd made of things. The weight of the Slytherin's drunken confessions had drastically tilted his previously-safe world off its axis. The war suddenly way more real and multifaceted than he ever believed it could be. He had some serious apologising to do, and he was casting his lot pretty heavily on Harry and Hermione's forgiveness. Thank goodness they were Gryffindors. As his quiet steps disappeared down the hallway, he began rehearsing how he was going to make his peace with Harry and Hermione after what he'd done, and, even more challenging, how he was going to explain the plight of his current unconscious passenger.

As he got closer to his destination, the words he whispered quietly into the hair of the sleeping witch in his arms disappeared silently into his disillusionment charm.

"I'm not sure how, but I promise I won't let anything happen to you."


	40. 40: Secrets, Vows, and Surprises

**In recompense for such a short chapter last week, this one's a bit longer than usual. And by the way, writing drunk Pansy is what it's like living in my head one hundred percent of the time, in case anyone was wondering.**

 **Also, thank you again to everyone who has been leaving reviews! The notification sound makes me do a happy dance of very little dignity every time. A special welcome to Nachtwens, who has been reviewing almost every chapter as they read!**

* * *

Hermione, Harry, and Severus were sitting at the magically-enlarged table in Hermione and Severus' shared living room. The circular table had become rather cluttered with papers, books, and journals, to the point that it had become necessary to increase its size. After Severus had doubled its diameter with a wordless wave of his hand, eliciting a cough that sounded suspiciously like the words "show off" from Hermione, Harry had looked inquisitively at the table, as if he was contemplating saying something, and then looked solemnly and, with a hesitant grimace, asked "dibbs on Galahad?" Hermione's face went blank for a second before she looked at the large, round table and burst into laughter. Severus looked unimpressed at the Gryffindors' joke, but later on in the evening when he was leaning over Hermione's shoulder to read a passage in a book he casually addressed a comment to the Lady Guinevere, making Hermione blush and Harry's eyes bug out comically. The laughter only began after he denied knowledge of the event with a knowing smirk.

"When did Draco say he was getting out of Astronomy tonight?" Hermione asked absentmindedly, paging through a medical healing journal.

"He said there was a late night lab tonight due to...Mercury being in retrograde...I think?" Harry's voice trailed up, betraying his complete lack of knowledge of any celestial bodies higher up than the average snitch.

"Anterograde, Potter. Really, now…" Severus lightheartedly reprimanded.

"He knows I've left the wards down to the entrance, so he'll saunter in any minute," Hermione added, going back to her work.

* * *

One hour, a tray of tea and biscuits, three diagrams, and one magical projectile into Hermione's hair (of which Severus denied all knowledge, much to Harry's amusement) later, they heard the door shut in the entrance chambers.

Harry called out to Draco without turning around, "Oy, how long does it take to chart the progress of one measly, little…" He trailed off when the two people opposite him were suddenly standing, wands drawn, in full fighting stance, all attention pointed at a point over his shoulder. Harry's head whipped around to see a frightened looking Ron Weasley carrying the unconscious form of none other than Pansy Parkinson. No, carrying was the wrong word, he was clutching her to his chest like a mother protecting her child or a knight protecting a rescued damsel, and Harry honestly couldn't settle on which metaphor disturbed him more.

"Er," Ron started with a face that obviously indicated he had no idea where to begin, "I swear neither one of us means any harm. Could you maybe put your wands down so I could explain a bit? There's been some, um, developments and she's getting a bit heavy. A sofa maybe?" Hermione and Severus shared a look that looked to Harry like a complete conversation had passed, only without them actually saying a word. He would have commented on it if he hadn't been so overwhelmed by the his redheaded, former best friend's stunning entrance. All the sudden the thread between Hermione and Severus seemed to break and they both snapped into action. Severus started towards his potions cabinet while Hermione ushered Ron towards the couch by the fire.

"What is wrong with Miss Parkinson, Mister Weasley? Do you know what happened to her or did you find her like this?" Severus asked, his voice curt and professional.

"Er, physically she's fine. Well, other than being drunk off her...um...she's had a bit too much firewiskey, Professor. Do you happen to have a sober up potion and maybe one for headaches? I'm sure with the amount that was missing from the bottle when I found her she'll be wanting one of those when she wakes."

Hermione had guided Ron to set the sleeping witch down on the sofa, but she wasn't prepared for the way he perched on the adjacent coffee table next to her instead of taking one of the poofy arm chairs or the way he gently brushed a lock of hair that had fallen across Pansy's face as she was set down back behind her ear as he spoke.

Severus returned with three vials in his hands, but paused before administering them to the unconscious witch.

"Mister Weasley, before I wake her, I think you should tell us how you found her. You and Miss Parkinson don't exactly run in the same circles."

Before Severus spoke, Ron had removed his robes and covered Pansy with them like a blanket. Hearing his name he straightened up to speak, "Right, well, erm," Ron cleared his throat before continuing. Harry and Hermione knew immediately he was about to launch into an explanation he had probably run over fifty or sixty times in his head. He would still bumble it spectacularly, but it would probably include a come-to-Jesus moment and an awkward apology. Hermione relaxed slightly at the thought of this.

"Well I was coming back from," Ron grimaced, " well, let's just say I was on my way back to the tower when I smelled alcohol. And you know how disillusionment spells don't hide smells very well, so I started poking around and, well, I kind of found Pansy," Harry and Hermione locked eyes for a second when he used her first name, "in a hidden nook of the hallway. She was crying and about finished with this," he held up an almost empty bottle of firewhiskey, "and when I asked her okay she didn't really seem like she was all there. I mean, she took a bit to recognize me. I asked her what was wrong and…" he paused and the shadow of a haunted sadness passed over his face, "from what I was able to make out it sounds like her father has set her up in an arranged marriage. Do they still do those?" he aimed this question somewhere in the air between Severus and Hermione, "It sounds like it's with a, no offense Professor, a 'fat, ugly Death Eater'," Ron used his fingers to make quotation marks in the air, "that's a lot older than she is and doesn't really care who he marries so long as they have, um, girl parts?" Ron began to blush furiously. "She said that she had to leave school and she didn't have a choice because if she didn't marry him they'd give him her little sister."

Ron wiped furiously at his eyes and looked up at Severus with more openness on his face than the older man had seen in six years of teaching the boy. "Would they actually do that, sir? Would anyone force their eight year old to get married to someone against their will? To...um...do the married people stuff? That's…" Ron's silent loss for words rang out across the quiet room until Severus took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, Mister Weasley, that is exactly what some would do. This past week Mr. Parkinson had the misfortune of displeasing the Dark Lord. He was given an option to 'redeem himself' but it was not made public what that option was, only that he was all too glad to take it. And given the information you gave about the Death Eater in question, no offense taken by the way, I can only assume that she is intended to become the next Missus McNair. He's always had a taste for younger brides, particularly unwilling ones. He says he enjoys breaking them in, but they keep accidentally ending up missing. He has come up in favor with the Dark Lord, so apparently he's being given a reward. I'm not surprised I wasn't informed because the Dark Lord knows I would have objected strongly as the girl's head of house." He put his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead in a rare display of humanity. Ron did a good job of hiding his shock until Hermione put a comforting hand on Severus' shoulder.

"How do we stop it, Severus?" Hermione said gently, yet resolutely.

"How do we stop what?" Draco's jovial voice rang out across the room. He looked around to see why everyone's face was so serious until he came through the doorway enough to see Ron's crop of red hair. In a second his Malfoy mask was back in place, changing his posture, his face, and his gait in an instant. Harry almost shuddered at the abruptness and the completeness of the transformation that had, in a split second, turned his friend Draco into the heir to the Malfoy line. Draco took a few steps closer, his fingers inching towards his wand, until he saw Pansy on the couch. His mask cracked for a second as he rushed to her side.

"Severus, what happened to her?" he asked worriedly, one hand on Pansy's forehead as a parent would check for a fever. Ron bristled at his physical proximity to the blonde, but didn't move an inch away from the unconscious witch.

"It would seem the Dark Lord has ordered Miss Parkinson to be the next Missus McNair. She apparently found out tonight and tried to drown her sorrows in a bottle of firewhiskey. Weasley here found her disillusioned in a corridor and brought her here."

"Bugger," Draco swore.

"How do we stop it then?" Harry echoed Hermione's previous question.

"You can't, not without them taking Gabi instead. What is she, seven now?" Draco answered Harry, but directed his question at Severus.

"Eight apparently," Severus answered with venom in his voice. Oddly enough, Ron found this brand of venom reassuring instead of terrifying, possibly because, for a change, it wasn't directed at him.

"So this really is a common thing then? Forced marriages? Child marriages?" To Draco's utter shock, Ron's question seemed to be directed at him. Even more shocking, the questions held none of the redhead's usual malice, just disgust, terror, and a solid amount of fear.

"Yes it does," he said curtly. "Especially in old, pureblood circles. Especially around the Dark Lord."

Ron eyed Malfoy with a critical eye for a few seconds before speaking very slowly and cautiously, his words drawn out to longer than they should usually be, "the Dark Lord...who you don't appear too pleased with...Hermione am I...is he...?" He eyed his bushy, haired friend as if asking for a life raft or test answers, possibly both. Hermione and Severus shared another long look, followed by a quick glance at Draco, who nodded to Hermione before she spoke.

"Since the beginning of last summer Draco has been working for the Order, Ron. He's just as much on our side as Harry and I are."

Ron's eyes darted to his former enemy, widening in surprise. After a long moment of silence, in which Ron's brain was clearly whirring a mile a minute and on the verge of smoking and Draco was as still as a rabbit cornered by a coyote, yet still perfectly composed in the way only a Malfoy could ever be, Ron let out a deep breath and almost physically deflated.

"Bloody hell. You mean to tell me for the past few months I've been a bigger prat than Draco Sodding Malfoy?" His eyes looked up to Harry, obviously asking for forgiveness. Harry laughed and nodded vehemently, a joking look on his face. Hermione was wearing what Severus had dubbed her 'maternal grin' face, and Draco was looking from person to person, as if he was trying to figure out how he should respond. Before he had to answer that question, the laughter was interrupted by a low moan from the witch on the sofa.

"My head...make the lights go away…" she said through slitted eyes, bringing one hand up to shield her face. Draco moved to deal with her, but Ron had already squeezed between them, his back to Draco as he leant over the dark-haired witch.

"You're okay. You're safe now. We've got you." Ron crooned, tucking another strand of hair behind the witch's ear. Draco looked incredulously over his shoulder at Harry, silently inquiring what bizarre plot twist had completely upended the relationship between the redheaded Gryffindor and the Slytherin ice queen. Harry shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he had no more idea than Draco did. As this silent conversation was going on, Severus stepped forward and handed Ron the first of the three potions he was holding. No one but Hermione noticed that he handed it to Ron rather than administering it himself.

As the effects of the potion began to spread, Pansy's awareness came back. She opened her eyes and looked around in terror that only grew the more faces she took in. Her eyes flicked from person to person, her fear growing. To everyone's surprise, she drew closer to Ron while keeping her eyes mainly on Draco and Severus, almost as if using him to shield her back as she kept an eye on potential attackers. Seeing the situation develop, Hermione stepped in.

"Maybe it would be best if we didn't crowd Pansy as she wakes up. Boys, do you mind stepping out while I talk to Pansy for a minute?" Seeing Pansy's eyes dart to the redhead behind her for a fraction of a second Hermione added, "maybe Ron should stay to administer the other two potions?" As she said this her eyes lingered on Severus, who nodded almost imperceptibly before handing Ron the other two bottles.

"We'll be in the other room," Severus said atonally as he ushered a very perplexed Harry and Draco through the doorway that led to the gym, leaving Hermione with an obviously confused Ron with a slightly less panicked Pansy.

When they were obviously out of earshot, Hermione began speaking, "Pansy, Ron's told us what happened. Can you confirm that you got a letter from your father saying you had to leave school immediately to be married?"

Pansy nodded silently, the tears beginning to build her eyes once more. Hermione's tone was that of a first responder dealing with the victim of a crime, professional, caring, yet straight to the point.

"Do you want to go through with this marriage?"

A tear rolled down each of Pansy's cheeks as if racing down her face. She silently shook her head.

"Good," Hermione took her hand and looked her dead in the eye, "we can protect you, but we're going to need a few things from you. Is your desire to escape this marriage stronger than your desire to serve the Dark Lord?" Ron could feel the witch flinch as she heard Voldemort's name. He wondered when she had sat up, when he had moved to the sofa behind her, or when her back had pressed itself to his chest.

"I don't...I never...It was always just survival. What was done. I never wanted anything to do with the Dark Lord. I wanted to stay alive. I want my sister to stay alive...gods, Gabi! I have to do it. I can't let-" Hermione cut her off with a small smile and a vehement shake of her head.

"We're going to protect you and your sister. I just needed to know you were willing to make the necessary sacrifices-"

"I am," she interrupted, "I'll do anything to save my sister, but I just can't marry that...I just can't," she dissolved into tears and somehow found her face buried in a robe that smelled like it had been dunked in her Amortiencia scent as she cried.

"We won't let anything happen to you or your sister. We're going to get you out of this. Would you be willing to make a magical oath confirming that you aren't going to do anything to hurt the side of the LIght or do anything to help the Dark Lord, either by action or omission?"

Ron wondered why Hermione's language had become so formal, but as the witch in front of him nodded he saw a golden wave of Hermione's magic wash over to her and he understood that she had been binding Pansy to the vow right then and there.

"We've got your back. You're safe now," Hermione said reassuringly to Pansy while pushing her sleeve back from a watch he had never noticed before. She leaned down and spoke into the watch's face, "Boys, you can come back in now."

Pansy tipped her head inquisitively, but Hermione just shook hers as if dismissing the unspoken question. Draco, Harry, and Severus came walking one by one back in the room and took their seats as Severus spoke.

"She's taken the vow then?"

Hermione nodded, but Pansy still was eying Draco and Severus the way a mouse eyes a large cat. Hermione laughed and put a reassuring hand on the other witch's shoulder.

"You know the vow you just took swearing allegiance to the light?" Hermione asked gently. Pansy nodded. "That oath has been taken by everyone in this room."

Pansy's eyes bugged out almost comically large, flashing from Draco to Severus and back again. Both returned her gaze with solemn nods. Pansy's eyes eventually found their way back to Hermione.

"And what happens, hypothetically, if someone breaks this vow?" Her eyes were resting on Draco and Severus again, making her true question clear.

Hermione giggled and answered nonchalantly, "nothing at first, but that night you'll die naturally in your sleep."

She had the nerve to seem surprised at Pansy's look of blatant shock and responded defensively, "what? Anything in the moment would clue people into the presence of a magical consequence, which would tip our hand unnecessarily. Plus, a natural death is much more humane. Not like those messy Unbreakable Vow deaths…" she spoke with the objectivity of a researcher discussing a historical treaty on cauldron metals.

"That's some bloody complicated magic that shouldn't actually be possible…" Pansy said slowly, eying Hermione as if she had just noticed a large fanged creature was sitting in the chair next to her. Draco, Severus, Ron, and Harry all gave the same amused nod. It didn't seem to properly answer Pansy's question, so she tried again.

"Seriously though, if the Dark Lord knew about that spell no one would be able to go against him. There would be no stopping him." She looked from one Slytherin to another, as if she was begging them to see reason. Draco was first to answer.

"That's what happens when you have Hermione Bloody Granger, swot extraordinaire, on your side, Pans. Turns out she's good for more than just copying off in charms."

Pansy's eyes whipped towards Hermione, obviously expecting an angry response, but her eyes widened when Hermione dropped into a mock curtsey, feigning queen-like waves and other over embellished hand gestures which wound up with one middle finger taking great prominence towards Draco, who in return promptly blew a kiss across the air at Hermione, who mimed snatching the kiss out of the air and eating it indelicately. Severus was looking on with amusement, Harry with poorly-contained laughter. Finally, she met the eyes of Ron Weasley, who she had been casually trying to avoid ever since she sobered up,

"Well, it's a good thing we're on the same side then?" Pansy asked tentatively, eliciting a huge grin from the redhead.

"We are indeed," confirmed Hermione happily. "Now let's figure out how we're going to get your sister. You said her name was Gabrielle, right?"

* * *

So you're saying I really can't come?" said the chosen one, perilously close to a pout. He received a swift elbow in the ribs from Draco, each drawing identical, highly-perplexed glares from Ron and Pansy, respectively. Hermione, however, answered him with the fledgling patience that was usually directed at Severus to a bumbling first-year.

"No, Harry, we've been over this. There's too much risk inherent in the plan and, Boy Who Lived or not, you're just not necessary enough for this to make it worth risking you. We need Pansy has to be the one to take down the wards because she's the only blood Parkinson, Draco to go find Gabi because he's the only one other than Pansy that she'll trust, I'm not letting my time turner out of my sight, even with you guys, no offense," she nodded to the two Slytherins, who both gave identical head shakes to indicate no offense was taken, "and Ron's going to play lookout because Severus's identity as a spy is far too easily compromised by entering the home of another Death Eater and you're the bloody Chosen One and we're not letting you get captured on a sodding rescue mission, you moron."

"Um, Hermione, you're doing that thing where you stopped using spelling or punctuation a few paragraphs ago," Ron ventured to calm her down. "Harry's just trying to be helpful, aren't you, Harry?" He was met by a begrudging grumble, which was met by another of Draco's elbows.

"Fine, fine, I'll just be here playing rummy with Professor Snape then," Harry said, clearly getting over his mood, but still a little bit sullen. A moment of silent uncertainty wavered in the air between the mismatched group of new allies until Severus' dry baritone surprised everyone.

"Actually, Potter, I'm partial to poker." Ron and Pansy gaped, Draco smirked, Harry did a double take ending with a look at his professor as if he'd grown an extra head, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked back into her room to change for the mission.

* * *

Hunched outside Parkinson Manor, the two Slytherins and two Gryffindors waited to see the owl leave with Pansy's message from her father. When the black-haired witch had seen Hermione pull out her time turner her eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates, but when Hermione had explained that the only way to get Gabi out with the minimum amount of suspicion would be to go in before Pansy could have logically received the letter, thereby eliminating her as a suspect, but after the owl had left so the course of events couldn't be changed. This left them with a tiny window that, at Pansy's best estimation of when she had gotten the owl, would commence any moment.

Pansy had drawn them a map of the relevant sections of Parkinson Manor, including the main entryway, from the center of which the wards could be controlled and off of which were the hallways leading to the individual wings of the house. Draco knew where Gabi's room was located, so as soon as Pansy successfully rendered the wards inert which would alert her parents to any non-related guests Draco would be the one to run down Gabi's wing and get her back to the entryway undetected. It was then up to Hermione to create what she referred to as "an appropriate alternative explanation", while Ron kept tabs on the present members of the Parkinson family while everything was going down.

At that moment they saw one of the Parkinson family owls fly out over the grounds in the direction of Hogwarts. Hermione pulled out one of Pansy's hairs and used it to cast a charm of her own invention on Ron that would allow him to see a glowing representation of each blood relative of Pansy's regardless of where they were in the house, regardless of how many walls were between them.

"Coooooool," Ron intoned as he watched the three blue glows in different wings of the manor.

"Let's go," Hermione said, nodding to Pansy and Draco as they started towards the foreboding, black gates.


	41. 41: Strange Newfound Allegiances

**Chapter 41: Strange Newfound Allegiances**

 **I'm here! I swear I didn't get eaten by Norbert! Real life just intervened and started whacking me with a giant foam mallet (still painful, even if it was just a metaphorical one). This isn't as long as I had planned it to be, but I wanted to get you guys something!**

 **I keep trying to make the plot move along, but these four demanded on getting better acquainted, so I let them do their thing. Plot next chapter. I swear...okay, I hope...**

* * *

Harry and Severus were starting to glance at their watches more and more frequently. Hell, Severus was inches away from suggesting they actually play poker to pass the time. What should have been a simple grab and go rescue mission was taking far too long. Harry was on pins and needles because he wasn't used to not being involved while someone else was in danger. Severus, on the other hand, knew exactly how capable Hermione was of handling herself, and therefore knew that if things were taking this long _with_ a time turner, something must have gone very differently from how they planned it.

Finally, at quarter past nine three weary wizards traipsed back into Severus' sitting room. Draco saw Severus' eyes flick to the door when Hermione wasn't with them and immediately spoke up.

"Hermione has been, erm, detained by the headmaster. He was alerted when a non-student passed through the wards and met us at the gates. Hermione got him to let us get Gabi settled in a spare set of rooms, but then he insisted they 'have a little chat'," he said, using very un-Malfoy air quotes with his fingers around the last phrase. Severus absentmindedly noted that Potter was beginning to rub off on the boy.

Harry didn't seem to know whom to rush over to first, so he simply stood between a shocked looking Ron and a smug looking Draco.

"What happened? I thought you guys were going back to seven when Pansy got the letter? We were beginning to worry something went wrong!" At this Severus obviously rolled his eyes, distancing himself from Potter's 'we', despite the fact that he had been a bit worried. There was no reason for _them_ to know that.

"It was bloody mental, Harry. Did you know Hermione could...that she was, well..." Ron finally spoke up but quickly devolved into a shellshocked looking head shake, eyes wide, eliciting a snort of derision from Draco. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to draw the redhead's ire the way it would have a few hours back.

"Succinctly put, Weasley," Draco said with only a hint of sarcasm, "yes, things went off course rather quickly. She put the spell on Weasley, who verified there were only three Parkinsons in the residence, but when we got close enough to the main entryway it turned out that the entire inner circle of Death Eaters were having a bloody get together in the main ballroom."

At this point Severus' voice cut into Draco's retelling with obvious anger.

"Is there any chance that this story is going to end with Hermione doing the prudent thing, scrapping the mission, and coming back here to formulate a plan B?" Ron and a very quiet Pansy startled and glanced at each other when Professor Snape used Hermione's first name, but neither Harry or Draco seemed phased.

"This is Granger we're talking about. Of course not," Draco said with a shake of his head. "She had Pansy send a patronus around the side of the house and through Gabi's window telling her to, and I quote 'play along', and then she proceeds to conjure herself a Death Eater mask and robe and waltzed in the front door. I tried to follow her, but as soon as I tried to move she hit us with that purple shield spell of hers that traps you on the inside but can't be seen from the outside once cast? The one that's a nasty piece of work to train against? Anyway, Pansy and I were trapped in the shield spell and see Weasley come sneaking by trying to get a better viewpoint. Pansy had the good sense to hit him with a disillusioning spell or we'd probably be receiving bits of Weasley by Death Eater owl mail for the next month."

At this point in the story Ron's face reddened noticeably and he slunk a fraction closer to Pansy's side.

"Anyway, a few minutes later Weasley goes streaking back in the opposite direction like his hair's on fire, well, more than it already is, followed shortly by a Death Eater with Gabi tossed over her shoulder. As she got close to us she let her conjured mask disappear, cancelled the shield spell, grabbed all three of us, and apparated us back to the edge of Hogwarts' wards. By the time we got Gabi through the gates and calmed down, the Headmaster was already there, so we never got much more of an explanation."

Draco finished and unceremoniously plopped himself into one of the armchairs by the fire. Ron and Pansy were still standing next to each other, stock still and quite stiff by the door. Harry nodded towards the couch with his head and instead of walking over to it himself put his arm around Pansy's waist to guide her over with him. Sharing another questioning look with Draco, Harry claimed the second chair. Severus, however, was still pacing agitatedly by the round table. He was just about to bombard Draco with further questions when Hermione slipped quietly through the door.

"Are you insane, witch? I thought we talked about taking unnecessary risks?" Severus' icy tone made Ron, Harry, and Pansy flinch.

"Hello to you too, Severus. To which risk do you happen to be referring?" Hermione responded as glibly as if she were discussing a homework assignment. Ron was looking her as if she had grown a leathery tail and begun flying around the room.

"You know damned well what I'm referring to! You could have gotten caught! You don't think parading around as a Death Eater counts as something a typical schoolgirl shouldn't know how to do? Or was that just on your bucket list? And who did you decide to impersonate, pray tell? Should I be awaiting a summons to explain why I decided to kidnap the youngest Parkinson girl?" His tone was pure ice as he angrily billowed towards Hermione.

"Yes, Severus, because I am exceedingly stupid and I've been wanting to throw you under the bus for some time now. I've really just been biding my time until a good opportunity arose…" she gestured with her hands to convey a false sense of ambivalence to accompany her dripping sarcasm until her voice snapped back. "Of course not! I used a facsimile of MacNair's mask. Figured he'd like a complete set, and I wanted a backup plan in case things went awry."

Severus' mouth had been open, halfway to another scathing comment as he bore down on her, but when her words registered he stopped and his jaw snapped shut, a look of irritated and skeptical acquiescence crept onto his face.

"Oh," was all he said. Hermione laughed and casually ghosted her fingers down the side of his face.

"Oh indeed," she said quietly, looking him directly in the eyes with a sincere smile, "I know what I'm doing, Severus. Would you like to see the pensive?"

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of seconds as her fingers made contact, but snapped open immediately as if he remembered there were other people in the room. He nodded abruptly and strode purposefully from the room, Hermione following in his wake, laying a brief hand on Harry's shoulder as she passed him and flashing a reassuring smile towards Draco as she disappeared through the door to the gym where the pensive was located.

As the door clicked shut a silence stretched over the room until it was broken by Ron's voice, "can anyone please tell me what just happened?"

"Which part?" said Harry, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Um, why don't we start with-" Ron started on what looked to be a dangerously-Weasley tirade, but was interrupted by the clear, quiet voice of the very white Pansy.

"I'd like to hear about what happened back at my house, if you don't mind." Her voice held all the commanding presence of the Slytherin royalty she'd always been, but none of the malice they were used to hearing. "It does concern me and my sister, after all. It's our hides if something had gone wrong."

All three boys nodded, but Harry spoke first, "I'm not actually sure about that bit. What did she mean about a backup plan? Who wanted a complete set, and of what?" His questions appeared to be directed at Draco, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"Weasley, what did the Death Eater mask look like, the one Hermione conjured?" Ron looked up as he tried to remember the details.

"Erm, silvery, with round eyes and creepy designs, and there were slats over the mouth almost like it had been sewn shut?" Ron seemed to shiver at having to describe it.

"Argh, like _Silence of the Lambs_?" Harry chimed in.

"Well I have no idea what quiet lambs have to do with Death Eaters, Harry," Draco chided in an amicable manner that made both Ron and Pansy do a small double take, "but that sounds to me like MacNair's Death Eater mask," Draco kept speaking, but it seemed to be more directed at himself than the others, "which means that a complete set...a complete set of...oh Merlin…" Draco now addressed Pansy with wide eyes, "Hermione wanted to make it look like MacNair kidnapped Gabi. A complete set. A complete set of Parkinson girls."

Pansy's eyes widened slightly to match Draco's, while Ron openly gaped at Harry.

"That was why she mentioned a backup plan. If MacNair really had pulled a stunt like that, especially after having been given me as a gift," Ron shuttered at this, but Pansy moved on as if she was discussing the weather, "the Dark Lord would have killed him on the spot. Or will do, most likely. That means that even if Draco didn't get Gabi she would be safe, at least for now."

A huge silence fell over the group until Pansy spoke again, "is Hermione really that ruthless? I mean, to get a man killed for something he didn't even do?"

Without hesitation, all three boys immediately answered "yes", then looked around as if surprised at the other two.

Ron was the first to shrug and speak again, "this is the girl who tattooed 'sneak' across a girl's forehead for ratting out the DA to Umbridge. She's bloody terrifying."

Harry laughed and nodded, "I was going to reference getting Umbridge abducted by centaurs, but I'd agree with your conclusion either way."

Draco was already laughing, but joined in with mock seriousness, "That's nothing to her punching me back in third year," he said, brushing imaginary lint off the shoulder of his robes with feigned haughty disdain.

"She _what_?!" asked Pansy, gaping openly at Draco.

Draco played dramatically into her hands as he reiterated, "She. Punched. Me. In the face. Like a bloody savage. Absolute menace that one."

"You have no idea, Ferret." Said Ron, surprisingly good naturedly, still holding his belly in laughter.

"You'd be surprised, Weasel." Draco quipped back without dropping a beat.

Harry was smiling widely as his oldest friend and his former enemy traded friendly barbs.

"You Gryffindors are far less boring than the rumors would suggest then," Pansy added, elbowing Ron in the ribs, a gesture which was reciprocated with a small blush on both sides.

Draco and Harry met eyes and shared yet another knowing look.


	42. 42: The Summons

**Chapter 42: The Summons**

 **Argh, a mid-week update? What even is this? Author's guilt for forgetting if it was two weeks or three, so I'm just posting as soon as I finish. This one is a tinsy bit short, but it had to stop here or it would be gigantic. I'll try to get the next one up sooner to one week than two to make up for it.**

 **Also, if you haven't noticed, my reward for DutchGirl (the second 100th reviewer...which shouldn't be possible but is) is called** _ **Verum Propositum**_ **and is up now! The next reward will be at 500!**

* * *

The second they got into Severus' private rooms and away from the odd assembly of prying eyes, Hermione found herself pressed against a wall, Severus' hands on either side of her head, his lips pressed to hers in a bruising kiss. She was immediately caught up in the spirit, her hands tangling in his hair and her body pressing back against his as he ravaged her mouth. Her brain didn't work for a bit, but after a while she managed to get a thought in edgewise, pulling back just enough to get words out against his lips.

"You weren't actually worried about me, were you?" she asked without really bothering to stop kissing him. "Because I would be incredibly offended if you didn't trust me to handle the bloody Parkinson family by now."

His lips moved down the column of her neck as he spoke in spurts between kisses, "Not at all." He nipped her collarbone, drawing a low moan from her kiss-swollen lips, "Totally trust you." He was now kissing his way back up her neck to the soft spot behind her ear, "just don't like you being in danger."

She tucked her head down to reclaim his lips, "you realize this isn't a terribly effective way to deter me from getting into any further precarious situations, right?" She pressed her body seductively into his to illustrate the point.

"Not thinking that far ahead at the moment," he said, picking her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, "might we finish this conversation…" he pulled her away from the wall and began to walk her toward the bed, "...at a later time?"

She soon lost the powers of coherent speech, but her assent was quite clear as she pulled him down with her as he threw up his strongest wards at the doorway and tossed her onto the bed.

* * *

Pansy had gone to see how Gabi was doing in the rooms Professor McGonagall had set up for her, leaving the most awkward trio ever to grace Severus' sitting rooms alone to make conversation amongst themselves. Much to everyone's surprise, the most awkward side of the trio was the recently-strained relationship between Harry and Ron. It was clear Harry and Draco had developed a rapport over the past few months, and Ron, who knew he was on thin ice, was careful to be nothing but polite to Draco. However, it was clear that Harry and Ron didn't know how to repair their relationship or where to start. Fortunately, Draco's upbringing as pureblood royalty had its advantages, and he had brokered far more tenuous situations than two fallen-out Gryffindors.

"So, Weasley, tell me exactly how you broke down Pansy's disillusionment charms. She's a dab hand at wards. Usually even drunk off her arse she puts up a hell of a barrier."

And with that, Ron started awkwardly into an explanation of the skills he'd acquired growing up with Fred and George. Within five minutes the three were talking and laughing as if they hadn't been enemies for most of their natural born lives.

"Okay, so let me ask a question," Ron asked as a wave of laughter subsided, "how long have Hermione and Professor Snape been...you know...Hermione and Professor Snape?"

Harry and Draco both laughed and exchanged looks as Harry responded, "yeah, that one was bizarre for me too. Apparently she approached him the night of the fourth task in the Triwizard Tournament. Sat in his sitting room all night until he got back from Voldemort and, the way she tells it, basically strong armed him into being her mentor. A few days later she talked McGonagall into giving her back her old time turner, and since then she's been doing each day three or four times over training with him. Well, with him and some others. Last summer I got to tag along to some of it, and it's just...terrifying. Defense lessons with the real Moody makes Crouch look like a pygmy puff. And don't get me started on the muggle bloke Snape had teach us how to fight."

"Wait," Draco said with a snort, "Severus took you to a muggle to learn how to fight? What?"

Harry threw his head back with a laugh as he recounted the story of the first day he met Edgar, to Ron's wide-eyed shock and Draco's great amusement.

"...apparently Hermione had been training with him all summer the year previous as well, but they let me walk in there thinking I was about to get stabbed or catch something. Seriously, Draco, you should have seen the place."

It escaped neither the blond or the redhead's notice that Harry unwittingly directed his comment to 'Draco' and not to 'Malfoy' or to Ron, who had originally asked the question. As the laughter died down Ron spoke again.

"Okay, so aside the fact that I've what sounds like a million hours of training to do before I could hold my own with either of you in a proper duel, you haven't answered my question. How long have Hermione and Professor Snape been, erm, together?"

Harry's and Draco's eyes both went wide with shock. If either of them had been taking a sip of tea when Ron had spoken it would have been forcibly sprayed across the room.

Harry reacted first. "What? Are you mental? Hermione and Professor Snape? No. They're not together. Ew, never. He's her mentor, sure, and they spend a lot of time together, but that's normal when you're an apprentice. They'd never...Draco?"

Harry looked to Draco to back him up, but the Slytherin had gone curiously still. His head was tilted quizzically to the side like a confused basset hound, and his eyes were fixed unseeing on the table as if he were thinking very hard about something.

"Draco, what is it? They're not. They can't possibly be." Harry seemed desperate for confirmation that his best friend and his potions professor were just teacher and student.

"I don't know. I never thought about it, but they could possibly be. I mean, they both love books more than people, they keep to themselves, they have sarcasm for days and don't particularly care who it lands on, they'd both hex me for using 'who' in that sentence instead of 'whom'...it actually makes a lot of sense. I just never thought of it because Severus has been my godfather since I was born and I've never seen or heard of him being involved in a romantic context with any woman. Or man. I actually wondered if he wasn't a poof a time or two, but eventually I just assumed he wasn't interested in anyone, so it never even crossed my mind," he stopped with a thoughtful pause. "Weasley, what made you assume they were together?"

Ron looked a little taken aback, "I mean, I can't really put a finger on it, I just...well, it just seemed obvious. I know she kind of fancied me back in fourth year, so I knew the way she used to stare at me, and, well, she doesn't look at him _that_ way. It's even more than that. She looks at him like she looks at…" he struggled to find the right word, "at books," he finished helplessly. Draco let out a snort of amusement. Harry was looking back and forth between them like they had both gone crazy.

* * *

Hermione and Severus lay panting in a tangled mess of sheets and limbs when she felt him twitch violently next to her.

"A little late in the game to catch a cramp. Is it…" she looked at him with a worried look only to see a nod of confirmation. With a wave of his hand his clothes were summoned from the various corners of the floor and were back on his body. She wordlessly summoned his Death Eater robes and mask and solemnly handed them to him as she stood up and began dressing herself.

"We knew I would be hearing about tonight's events sooner rather than later," he said reassuringly, fixing his cloak.

"I know, but still…" she grimaced at him as she finished pulling her hair back into an unkempt bun. "I just don't like it when you're in danger." She put on her best pout.

"And you show it by pouting?" he said, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. She nodded, brow still furrowed.

He drew her close into an embrace and gently kissed the tip of her nose. "My way's more fun," he said with a smirk.

She gave him her best scowl, occasioning a head shake and derisive snort.

"I'll be back shortly. Feel free to have whatever members of the bizarre assortment of your classmates out there keep you company while I'm gone."

* * *

Followed Severus out to join her friends in the next room, but couldn't wipe the worry off of her face as she explained where he had gone. Offering to make tea for the lot of them, she swept out of the room to collect herself in the kitchen.

"Wasn't her hair in a braid before?" Draco commented dryly, casting a sly glance at Ron. Ron blanched at first, but shot him a knowing look. Harry looked downright ill.

"Doesn't mean anything. Nope. Maybe she just got hot or something."

"I'm _sure_ she got hot-" Draco started with a smirk, when Harry cut him off with a swift kick under the table. Draco mocked a gesture of surrender, but shook his head laughing in Ron's general direction. Much to everyone's surprise, Ron laughed right back.

* * *

The four had been talking about their next transformation essay for about fifteen minutes (excitedly for Hermione, begrudgingly for Ron) when Severus came striding back in from the exterior door to the castle. All four stood up upon his reentry, surprised that he had returned so quickly.

"It would seem I require your company, Draco. The Dark Lord has requested your presence," he said with a solemn face.

As if he wasn't pale before, the three Gryffindors saw all the color drain out of his face. As he stood up, Ron all the sudden noticed the difference between the Draco with whom he had surprisingly been chatting for the last hour and the heir to the Malfoy dynasty who now stood in front of him. With a straight back and no expression on his face, Malfoy nodded his head and silently indicated he would follow Severus. Severus nodded to Hermione and swept again from the room, this time followed by the only other Slytherin in the room, leaving a worried Hermione and Harry and a gaping Ron in their wake.


	43. 43: Draco's Dilemma

**Chapter 43: Draco's Dilemma**

 **Hello there! I'm so sorry this update has taken so long! My husband has been on bed rest from a back surgery for about two months now, my toddler has majestically decided never to sleep again, and I just started a new course for my PhD program...suffice it to say retreating into a fictitious world of Ms. Rowling's creation and my humble dabbling has never been more tempting or less attainable. As usual, I promise I'll never abandon you guys, even if chapters take me longer than I'd like.**

* * *

By the time Severus and Draco reemerged through the door from the grounds to Severus's sitting room, it was just Hermione and Harry left to wait for them. Ron had stayed for a while but had gotten a bee in his bonnet that Pansy might not be safe in the Slytherin dorms after what happened, so he had stormed off to Professor McGonagall's office full of what Hermione had referred to with a shake of her head as "Gryffindor bluster". It was all Harry could do not to make a comment about how she was technically a Gryffindor as well, but in light of Ron's observations, he decided to observe more and speak less.

At first, Hermione was grateful to have Harry for company as she waited for Severus. Waiting was usually a harrowing experience as she didn't know if it would be a 'tea and tough talk' type meeting or a 'blustering and bloodloss' type meeting. However, her excitement at having someone to help her pass the time was quickly over stripped by her annoyance at Harry.

"You know pacing won't bring them back any faster, right?" she asked with an eye roll over her attempt at a charms essay.

"Yes, for the _fifteenth_ time, I do. I just don't know what could be taking them so long," the still-pacing Harry asked Hermione, pushing his fingers through his messy hair with worry.

"They'll be back when they're back, Harry," she huffed, "There's no use in worrying yourself over something you can't control."

"You're right. You're right. I know you're right," he said nodding vehemently as he paced. She turned back to her essay for a second, but her head jerked up again when Harry suddenly turned around with renewed intensity. "At what point do we do something, though? Like, go to Dumbledore? Send out a search party? Go rescue them ourselves?"

"Harry. It's only been two hours. There have been times when Severus hasn't come home until past three am. You need to find something that distracts you."

"Like what? What could distract me from the fact that Draco's undergoing God knows what at the hands of an evil git on account of something we did? I mean, seriously, Hermione. We were the ones who broke Gabi out! Or you were, but you know what I mean! They could be torturing him right now!" Harry was now gesturing wildly as he spoke.

"Them," Hermione corrected pointedly.

"What?" Harry turned to face her again, the wind having been knocked out of his sails by her question.

"Them. Draco _and_ Severus. They could be torturing _them_ right now," Hermione said pointedly. Harry took a second to pause, but shook his head quickly, as if too worried to entertain the train of thought Hermione's comment would begin. However, before either could press the subject further, there was a rustling sound from behind the door that led to the outside world and soon a grumpy looking Severus and an even paler than normal Draco were gliding through the door. Before Hermione had even stood up from her essay, a streak of messy black hair streaked across the room to grab the blonde Slytherin into a startled embrace. For a second it looked like Draco didn't know whether to shove him off or hex him, but after a brief second he brought his arms up around the Gryffindor and gave him an awkward pat on the back. A surprised Severus and an amused Hermione looked on as both boys seemed to take solace from the embrace before Harry opened his eyes, remembered what he was doing, and quickly pulled back, looking embarrassed. Draco dusted off his robes while Harry made a show of cleaning his glasses, and Hermione finally turned to Severus to ask what happened.

"It seems young Draco has been given a task," Severus said, seriously worrying Hermione with his tone of voice.

"Would this be a task that would be better discussed over tea?" Hermione asked sagely, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning a pot of tea and four cups from the kitchen as she directed the three men into the sitting area. Draco nodded appreciatively at her as he took his cup, taking a brief but deep breath as he began talking.

"Well," Draco began, "the Dark Lord was not pleased at all about Macnair's attempts at securing a two-for-one deal on brides. Hermione, I don't know how you did it, but he viewed the memories of several people who had been at Parkinson manor and he had Macnair wreathing on the ground almost instantaneously and didn't even wait to perform a legilimency check of his side of the story before casting the avada."

Hermione winced slightly but nodded in approval at the end result. Pansy and Gabi would be safe. "So that's all wrapped up then. Good. But why did you get summoned for this?"

Draco winced as he spoke, "it seems the Dark Lord has been planning for a while to...indoctrinate the next generation. Since Pansy slipped out of his grasp, he decided it was time to bring me into the fold."

"He wants you to take the dark mark?" Harry asked, mouth agape with horror.

"No, and I actually have Hermione to thank for that. She suggested that Dumbledore perform a less-than-subtle Slytherin arm check a few times over the semester. I was able to show him memories of this and suggest that it would be unwise for me to take the mark until I'm out of school."

"And he bought it?" Harry's voice was still full of worry.

"Well, I'm still alive, so he believed me about the arm check, but in terms of taking the mark he just laughed and said that I wouldn't have to wait all the way to graduation," Draco said with a shudder.

"What does that mean?" Hermione's voice was stern, cold, and oddly maternal.

"It means that he gave me an assignment, and when I finish the assignment he will mark me as my 'reward'." Draco used heavy air quotes around reward, conveying his true feelings about being branded like a prize steer. "I have until the end of the year to repair a vanishing cabinet in the room of lost things here at Hogwarts. When I fix it, the Dark Lord is planning to take over the school."

A dead silence spread across the room. For a few heavy seconds all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, until Harry's resolute voice cut through the silence.

"That can't happen."

"I'm sure we can-" Draco started, but Harry cut him off.

"No, that can't happen. This school is the only bloody home I've ever known and I'll be damned if I let that murdering bastard anywhere near it. No. Just no." He turned resolutely to face Hermione and Snape, who were watching him carefully.

"What do we do?" his voice was childlike in its sincerity but fully adult in its determination. Hermione looked at Severus as she answered.

"So I guess that's our deadline for the Horcruxes then? We have to let Draco repair the cabinet, or at least look to be making progress, but we have to be prepared so that when the Dark Lord comes through we're there and waiting, and more importantly ready to kill him."

Severus nodded sagely, obviously already plotting in his head when Draco spoke up again, "I can actually help out with that bit. After I was excused from the meeting, my mother took me to get the signet ring for the Black family. She said that now that Sirius was...um...has been in a coma for over six months my coming of age will officially make me the youngest male in the Black family line, so she took me to get it tonight."

While Harry eyed Draco's ring with abject sadness at the mention of his still-unconscious godfather, Hermione was looking at Draco inquisitively, "what does that have to do with Horcruxes?"

At that point, Draco pulled a small golden cup out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Hermione and Severus both hissed and recoiled as if he had placed a live snake on the table, Harry doubled forward clutching his scar.

With almost no further contemplation, Severus slid between Hermione and the Horcrux, whipping out his wand. He muttered a strange incantation under his breath, pointed his wand at the cup, and a thin, needle-wide beam of red-orange fire connected the tip of his wand to the center of the cup. Harry began asking what he was doing but was swept back away from the table with a wordless flick of Severus' nondominant hand.

After ten seconds or so the cup started to shake and emit a high pitched whistling sound. After fifteen it was hissing and smoking as well. At twenty Harry had grabbed his scar again. At twenty-five Draco backed away from the table with his hands over his ears. Severus stood unmoved, sweat rolling down his forehead in concentration or heat from the fire or both, then suddenly there was an ear-splitting wail and the cup burst into momentary flames and emitted a blinding white flash of light. When the smoke cleared, a hunk of melted medal was all that remained on the table. All four stared at the smoking pile for a second before everyone spoke at once.

"Was that really what I-" Harry started.

"Are you serious bringing that thing into this-" Severus began.

Hermione's voice, however, was the only one directed at Severus instead of Draco, strongly enough that hers was the one which won over the din, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Severus asked, running his hand over his dark mark as he continued staring at the former cup.

"Use fiendfyre like that. I've only ever heard of it being used in giant spurts of flames. Sometimes really powerful wizards can manifest in in animal form, but that was...that should have been impossible," she said, still through focused and furrowed brows.

"Dumbledore and I have been experimenting. One of the only ways we've found to destroy one, well, other than a Basilisk fang," Harry shuddered involuntarily at the memory, "is fiendfyre. I guess I managed to manifest it a little more tactically than most. Why?"

Hermione had the look that Harry immediately recognized as the one she wore before she darted off to the library to prove a theory. True enough, it wasn't five seconds before she had Severus by the wrist and was dragging him into her apprentice rooms to cross-check something, leaving Harry and a now very tired looking Draco alone by the fire.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly after it became evident Draco was lost in his own thoughts.

"No," Draco said simply, shaking his head far longer than was necessary to match his words, almost as if his head continued of its own volition.

"You're not going to get marked. We won't let it get that far."

Draco snorted, "because you're the bloody chosen one and you forbid it?" he said with a small laugh.

"Yes," Harry replied, staring him straight in the eye, completely serious. Draco felt a panic rising in his chest that he hadn't felt since he was a small child, suddenly worried he was going to cry right there in his godfather's sitting rooms in front of the prospective savior of the wizarding world.

"What if we can't get them in time. Harry, I can't…" he trailed off, not knowing words enough to express his anguish. He suddenly froze when he felt Harry's hand on his arm. His eyes darted up from said hand to the green eyes to which it belonged.

"I won't let anything happen to you. You're one of us now." Draco swallowed fiercely, oddly nervous under Harry's intense stare. The Gryffindor's gaze averted at last after Draco nodded and finally let out a sigh of relief, letting his body finally relax out of its previously-stiff posture.

"You know what was truly weird?" Draco asked after a moment of listening to the crackling of the fire. Harry tipped his head in inquiry.

"My mother. When she took me to the vault, she kept saying strange things. About how she was proud of the tough choices I was making, or how she knew I would always do the right thing even if it was hard, or how there are always multiple ways to solve a problem. She even mentioned that I was more than just the heir to the Malfoy family. Nothing she said was out of line for her, but I could have sworn she was trying to tell me something."

"What do you think she was trying to say?" Harry inquired.

"I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think she was trying to tell me to change sides."

* * *

"This spell," Hermione said excitedly, pointing to her book. "Do you think you could manifest that spell in the same format, with the same precision you used with the fiendfyre?" She shoved the book at Severus. He raised an eyebrow at her, but bent down to read after receiving a forceful glare from the impatient young witch.

"I can't see why not. Why a healing spell? What does that have to do with Horcruxes?" he asked, still perusing the book.

"Because I know how to get the last one out of Harry's head."


	44. 44: The Great Voldemort Removal Process

**Hello my patient readers! I am so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get out! I could sing the song about trying to write my dissertation in a shady extended stay hotel room (with an alarmingly non-zero hooker population) as we traveled for my husband's fifth (and hopefully final) back surgery, but I don't want to bore you, so just know I'm trying not to let RL keep me from finishing up our story. By my count there should be a dozen or so chapters to go, but I'm really just the intermediary, because these characters really just do as they please anyway.**

 **Thank you again for your patience and, with that, let's get this Horcrux out of Harry's head, shall we?**

* * *

 **Chapter 44: The Great Voldemort Removal Process**

"I don't mean to be a stick in the mud, but can we go over this again? Just one more time?" Harry's voice held far more humor than it probably should under the circumstances.

"Which part is bothering you, Mister Potter? The Horcrux relocation process or the partial brain removal?" Severus' dry voice cut off across the office.

"Erm, for safety's sake what's just say we go over the whole thing, shall we? And, um, no offense, Sir, but could you possibly let Hermione explain it? She has a voice that sounds...less like I'm marching to my inevitable doom."

A bright blonde snort from across Dumbledore's office indicated Draco's sentiments to the opposite opinion. Hermione smirked openly as she put on her teacher voice and stood to speak.

"Well, as we all know it isn't yet possible to remove a Horcrux from a living host. There is a surprising amount of research that shows that killing the live host will eliminate the horcrux as well, which is conceptually reassuring but not at all helpful for our purposes."

At that point everyone heard a mutter from Harry's general direction about being wrong about Hermione's reassurance levels. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and continued.

"During my first round of research," she knowingly glanced over at Severus, the only one of their strange little team to know about the months she'd spent locked with nineteen other Hermiones researching in her apprentice quarters, "I came upon a spell originally used by wizards to cure the disease muggles refer to as cancer. It basically overwhelms the body with what is basically an overwhelming beam of healing magic, destroying anything that isn't organically part of the being in question. I had initially discounted it as a nonstarter because it isn't strong enough actually to destroy a horcrux. Instead, it would cause the Horcrux to try to flee the body, but finding no place it could go, the Horcrux would bounce from place to place within the body, eventually tearing the host apart from the inside."

"Yeah, definitely strike what I said about being less frightening than Professor Snape," Harry muttered a little louder this time, earning another stern look from Hermione.

" _Anyway_ ," she stressed the word, trying to get back on track, "after Severus was able to change the shape of his fiendfyre yesterday we went back to that spell and gave it a second look with the added knowledge that spells can be directed more accurately than the initial creator of the spell had intended. With this in mind, we found that we could, by manipulating the cancer spell into the shape of a flattened laser beam," those without muggle knowledge looked mildly baffled at this but no one interrupted her, "we could strategically relocate the Horecrux inside you without destroying you, the host, if we were able to isolate it. This is why Draco and Ron are here. With Albus's and my help," no one but Ron seemed surprised that she was on a first name basis with the headmaster, "we will feed their light magic into you from each extremity. This won't be as potent as the full spell Severus will be using, but it will be enough to make any lingering trails of the Horcrux that may be in your body retreat up to your scar, where we are assuming the Horcrux is primarily located. This also has the added benefit of making the whole process visible to the naked eye, as these light spells will make your magic, as well as the Horcrux's magic, light up like a Christmas tree. With me so far?"

The room was silent as all heads turned to look at Harry.

"You've really gotten alarmingly professorial in the last few months, you know that, Hermione?" Harry said, his joke falling flat in the still silent room. Hermione smiled fondly but rolled her eyes. Harry took a deep breath, "so you lot shoot happy spells in through my arms and legs so Professor Snape can isolate the Horcrux. That much makes sense. But I thought you said you couldn't get rid of it, even if it's isolated?"

"Right," Hermione continued, "so this is where we get a bit...creative." She pursed her lips before she spoke on, "I found a really esoteric spell from some third century wizard who must have been somehow related to the Weasley twins that helped combine a wizard's biology with that of an animal, so the wizard could retain some of that animal's physical characteristics. I think they were going for human flight, but they didn't take the physics of a human body versus a bird body into account and ended up-"

A cough from the blond corner of the room ended what was sure to be a very informative yet incredibly irrelevant tangent.

"Right," Hermione blushed and shook her head, "basically we'll be giving you a little extra grey matter to store the Horcrux in so we have something we can remove without hurting or, well, lobotomizing you."

"You're going to splinch me with some bloody beast that has something sticking out of its forehead so you have something to chop off?" Harry said, sounding a bit apprehensive now, "I'm going to be part unicorn or something?"

"Actually, beluga whale," Hermione said as factually as possible, "a unicorn horn would be structurally easier, but we need something with blood flow to ensure that the Horcrux can pass completely into it."

"Right," Harry said with a nod. "Anything else I need to know?" He looked hopefully at Hermione, but paled when he saw the expression on her face. "What is it?" He said with a dread-filled deadpan.

"You've got to be conscious while this is happening. We have no way of knowing if the Horcrux goes to sleep or gets stunned when you do, and we don't want to take any risk that it will, um, possess you...so you've got to be awake the whole time." She finished quickly, as if rapid speech could lessen the likelihood that Harry would react negatively to what she was saying.

"You're telling me I've got to be conscious while you combine me with a whale, chase a Horcrux into my newly-whale-like head, and then chop off the top part of my brain?" Harry was far calmer than she thought he'd be, but everyone there could hear the incredulity and the panic fighting in his voice.

Hermione responded in a clinical, yet attempting to be comforting tone, "Yes, technically, but once Severus has the Horcrux contained, it leaves the four of us free, so while Albus, erm, makes the incision, Draco will be able to cauterize as he goes, and I'll be completely free to do local pain management, so you shouldn't feel anything at all from anywhere north of your glasses."

"And what will you be doing then?" Harry asked Ron in a nervously-throaty whisper.

"Erm," Ron paused, looking mildly similar to when he had been belching slugs into a bucket back in second year, "moral support?"

"Distraction," Hermione said pointedly. "Ron's going to do what he does best, which is keeping you from thinking about anything serious." This occasioned a small chuckle from both boys, who were suddenly back in third year with nothing more serious to worry about than Hermione bossing them around to do their homework. The moment didn't last long, and as the laughs awkwardly faded into silence both boys turned back to Hermione.

"And when are we going to do this?" Harry asked Hermione nervously.

She took a big breath and straightened her shoulders, "no time like the present, right?"

* * *

Harry lay face up on a conjured cot in the middle of Dumbledore's office. Hermione and Albus were each by one of his feet, Ron and Draco each by a hand, and Professor Snape standing by his head. Just as the silence was beginning to grate on all of their nerves, Fawkes let out a hopeful trill of music that relaxed everyone in the room.

"Everyone ready?" Severus' voice was firm and commanding, betraying not a hint of nerves. Everyone nodded as Fawkes trilled one more time.

Hermione had already performed the combination spell, so Harry looked like he had been hit in the forehead by a nasty bludger. His lightning scar was distorted as it stretched across a lump the size of a small orange on the right side of Harry's forehead. It looked even stranger when Harry nodded, as the lump seemed to wobble a bit with the movement of his head.

"Light spells start now, please," Severus said calmly. Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Albus all cast simultaneously, causing a golden-white glow to begin at Harry's fingers and toes, spreading slowly up from his extremities. Hermione let out a small gasp when the golden glow reached Harry's chest and small, wispy tendrils of a greenish-grey could be seen swirling around, intertwined with the gold. It was like watching oil in a strong current of water, for as the golden glow got stronger, the tendrils slowly withdrew and forged up from Harry's body towards his head. The four kept feeding golden energy in through his limbs as the glow pushed the inky tendrils up Harry's torso and to his neck. As soon as the line demarcating the battle between the two colors crossed the plane of Harry's glasses, Severus cast a long, thin plane of almost blinding white light that seemed to bisect Harry's head completely. It was as if Severus' spell was of some material other than light or matter, as it easily penetrated all the way through both Harry and the golden glow as if it weren't even there.

As soon as he had the spell firmly in place, he nodded and the four others released their light spells from each extremity. Below Severus' spell the golden glow faded slightly, but little wisps of gold could still be seen swirling around Harry's main arteries, around his chakras, and around his vital organs. Above the plane of Severus' spell, however, a battle broke out. The greyish-green tendrils tried to make their way past Severus' spell, but when they found their way impeded they began striking out violently in all directions, pulsing against the golden light wherever they touched it. The remaining golden glow which had been trapped north of Severus' seemed to intensify as it was attacked but was quickly attacked by the growing quantities of increasingly frantic dark, pulsing energy.

Beads of sweat appeared on Severus' forehead as he slowly maneuvered the plane of white, a thin plane of something between light and plasma, up Harry's head, trapping the angry, pulsing, dark tendrils in a smaller and smaller area. Harry had begun to breathe heavily by the time Severus had trapped it completely into the lump on Harry's forehead. It had previously looked awkwardly large, but now that it was filled with the violently thrashing and pulsing mass of grey-green smokey luminescence, it seemed like it almost wasn't large enough to hold.

The now slightly shaking Severus gave another nod and Hermione began casting her numbing spell right below the line of Severus' molten plane. Harry's sigh of relief was easily heard in the silence of the room. As if it was rehearsed, Draco and Albus moved from their previous positions up to either side of Harry's head. With a grim look, the headmaster touched his wand right below Severus' plane of light and began removing the entire bump, trapping the illuminated barrier and its increasingly angry, thrashing prisoner on the lemon-sized half-dome of flesh that was soon to be separate from its former host. As soon as there was room for a separate wand near the incision, Draco began trailing his wand behind the headmaster's, chanting his healing spell as he went. Draco's voice chanting was the only sound that could be heard over the slight buzzing of Albus' separation spell.

Minutes passed by as the process went, Severus' wand hand shaking with the energy he was putting into the spell that kept the Horcrux trapped in the area being removed, Hermione now dripping with sweat from the magic she was pouring into the pain relief spell, and Draco chanting low in the background. At the last minute, Ron dodged suddenly away from his previous place by Harry's arm and dove towards the proceedings at Harry's head. He came up with his two hands cupped together holding the piece of severed flesh and a greenish pallor to his face as if he had eaten several buckets of slugs.

"I guess we didn't plan out who would catch it, did we?" Hermione said matter of factly, not ceasing her pain-relief spell on Harry's head. Severus' snort was audible as Ron whimpered in disgust.

"I don't want to release the containment spell until we've fully destroyed it. Mister Weasley, do you mind placing it on the metal panel on the floor? Albus, I wouldn't want your fiendfyre to demolish your precious desk." Severus said as he, Ron, and Dumbledore shuffled precariously away from Harry and to the prearranged bin in the middle of the office. Ron gratefully placed the now thrashing hunk of formerly-Harry meat into the metal box and stepped away, looking as if he had only a tenuous grasp on his lunch at this point. Dumbledore cast a jet of fiendfyre into the box and a piercing shriek could be heard echoing around the office as the hunk of flesh twisted and writhed under the flames. A shiver went up everyone's spines at the horrible noise got louder and louder as the Horcrux neared its destruction. With a final wail, there was a pop as a gust of hot wind swept across the office. Dumbledore released his spell and the fiendfyre was sucked back into his wand as Severus sagged into a nearby chair, breathing heavily. The charred pile of ashes smoked passively in the box as all eyes turned back to Harry.

Hermione and Draco had both been focusing their magic on healing spells, even as the Horcrux was screaming its last, so when the two elder wizards turned back, they saw Harry, looking very pale but otherwise exactly as he had before.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, the usual twinkle replaced by abject worry.

"I feel…" Harry started shakily, seemingly taking inventory of himself, "like me, but...lighter? Like there's less pressure inside my head maybe?" He paused before feeling his newly-reformed, yet still lightning-shaped scar. "The closest I can come to describing it is the way you feel when you're exhausted to the point of a migraine, and then you finally sleep for a bit, and when you wake up your head feels clear...and...empty...but in a good way?"

"Well we always knew your head was empty, mate," Ron mumbled in the background.

Draco snorted, but slapped Ron goodnaturedly upside the head, "oh now he chimes in with the jokes. Nice moral support you had there, Weasley."

Ron and Draco continued their playful banter as Severus and Albus made sure the former Horcrux was properly vanished and the metal bin removed from sight, but Hermione just stared at Harry, tears in her eyes.

"You're free," she said with a quiet smile.

"Thanks to you," Harry said happily.

"Thanks to a lot of us, actually," Hermione said, wiping uselessly at her watering eyes.

"No, I'm pretty sure it was you, wonder-witch," Harry said, pulling her into a firm hug. He patted her curls as she cried onto his shoulder.

"Oy, Hermione, we decided we _don't_ need to stab him with the sword of Gryffindor after all, weren't you paying attention? Hunk of charred Harry-meat ring a bell? Quit blubbering!"

Hermione laughed through her tears and, without pulling away from her hug with Harry, reached one hand towards Ron over her shoulder and sent a wandless, wordless jolt of electricity out of her palm that hit him in the shoulder and made him yelp and jump. The laughter that followed was lighter and more carefree than any of them had experienced for a long time.


	45. 45: Shifting Tides

**Chapter 45: Shifting Tides**

 **So something's about to happen. I don't think it will come as a huge surprise, but I truly hope it doesn't offend anyone. It will not change the story's basic plot or rating, nor was it originally in the plan for this fic, but these characters really just do what they please regardless of my plans. Seriously, I am surprised when I am writing almost as often as when I'm reading. Things just happen, and I'm sitting here powerless at my keyboard wondering "Really, Harry? That's how this is going to go?". So, with that incredibly nebulous intro, here you go.**

 **Also, 500th reviewer gets to submit a plotbunny for oneshotification, just as a reminder. :)**

* * *

Draco couldn't remember exactly when he had started having trouble sleeping, but he had a sneaking suspicion he could blame his transition into insomnia on one Hermione Granger. Malfoys didn't have insomnia, as a rule. They lied, cheated, scammed, and slithered their way through their daily activities and then slept like a damn baby at the stroke of nine. It was nights like this, nights where his aimless feet seemed to have wandered their way out of the Slytherin dormitories and halfway up the stairs to Severus' private gym before he even noticed what they were doing, when Draco Malfoy wondered if he even qualified as a Malfoy anymore. Up until Hermione approached him after the fiasco at the ministry he was perfectly content to be Lucius' perfect, pureblood princeling, mindlessly forming himself in his father's image in service of the Dark Lord. However, he now willingly spied for the Order, helped remove and destroy fragments of the Dark Lord's soul previously-lodged in the Boy Who Lived, and, most shockingly, vehemently looked forward to the day when one hundred percent of said Dark Lord's soul was dead and gone.

And so he wandered. He usually ended up in the owlery, the astronomy tower, or the quidditch stands. They had the best views and the most plausible excuses for being there at three in the morning. However, today his feet decided they wanted a change of pace, so he found himself panting his way up to Severus' gym as if on autopilot. His rational brain finally engaged when, instead of the peaceful silence of an empty gym, he came face to face with the wand of a messy-haired, newly-horcrux-free Gryffindor. He saw Harry a full three seconds before Harry noticed his presence which, with the amount of training Harry had done over the summer with that one-eyed, vigilance-obsessed, nutjob of an auror, was really saying something about how lost in thought the other man had been. When Draco finally made a small cough to alert Harry to his presence, the raven haired wizard looked over to him with a warm, peaceful smile.

"Hey, you," Harry said warmly, scooting over and gesturing for Draco to join him by the window. Draco walked carefully over, noting the uncharacteristically serene expression on the young Gryffindor's face and plopped down in his normal spot looking over the quidditch pitch. He looked sideways at Harry for a few seconds, almost as if waiting for an explanation, before he could take it no longer.

"Are you high or something? Did Lovegood finally show you her stash of whatever she's been smoking all these years? Because if she did and you didn't share, well, my father's going to hear about it."

This was apparently what was needed to crack Harry's dazed smile into a full blown laugh.

"Oh you know that type of crazy doesn't come from an herb. Whatever she's doing involves a wrong-way encounter with a nargle infestation, and you know it," Harry said through his laughter. "No, it's actually quite bizarre, but ever since it's been just me in here," he tapped his forehead with his pointer finger, "I don't know, it's like I've always been unhappy, and angry, and volatile," Draco snorted at the last one, "and I just assumed it was because I was raised in a crap family and I only escaped to realize that there was a fanatical lunatic trying to murder me every year...and I guess I just thought it was me that was so surly and upset all the time. Now that it's gone, well, it's just kind of peaceful in here. Turns out I'm actually a fairly agreeable bloke when it comes down to it."

Draco nodded, "So it actually feels different? I mean, you can feel that it's gone?"

Harry tilted his head as if trying to find the right wording, "It's hard to explain. It's not like I can physically feel anything different. It's more like, have you ever gotten really drunk and been on about something really vehemently, like how they should have a puffskein only quidditch league, and then in the morning you wake up and think back on it, like, wow, was that stupid. Why on earth did that make sense?" At this point Draco was laughing and nodding so hard it could only indicate that he knew _exactly_ what the other man was talking about.

"So you feel differently about some things then? No lingering desire to take over the world?"

Harry laughed nervously and shook his head, "No, definitely no desire to take over the world, but I don't exactly feel different, it's just clearer. Like I was always so conflicted about what I wanted, but now it makes sense that I was conflicted because there were two of me. Now it's just...Harry. And as it turns out just Harry is actually not that confused about what he wants. It's lovely."

"And what does just Harry want? Other than that all-puffskein quidditch league, of course," Draco asked quietly, attempting humor but somehow falling a little short.

"Well, I am still dead set on that," Harry responded dryly, "I don't know...I still want to defeat Voldemort as quickly as we can and with as little collateral damage as possible, I still want to play Quidditch every once in a while to unwind but, unlike Ron or Ginny, have no desire to play professionally, don't exactly want this, but I'd still die to protect the people I love, like Hermione, or Remus, or Sirius…" Harry took the most pregnant of pauses, before continuing so quietly it would have been drowned out if there had been any ambient noise in the room, "...or you."

Draco's head jerked to face Harry, his eyes so intent they appeared a shade darker than their normal grey. When Harry slowly turned his head to meet Draco's gaze, it seemed time stood still until Draco spoke.

"Is that all you want?" He hadn't meant it to, but it came out more of a husky whisper than actual speech. Harry's eyes widened as he stared across at Draco, not sure what he should read into the blond's statement, who had sucked all the air out of the room, why his heart was hammering like he was in the middle of a quidditch match, or exactly when Draco had moved to be sitting so close to him. Slowly, Harry managed to shake his head slowly back and forth, his eyes never leaving Draco's.

Seeing this, Draco inhaled shakily, paused another second, and gently leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his lips and Harry's. Both froze the instant their lips met, neither moving as if for fear they would startle the other. After a few seconds Draco pulled back, searching Harry's green eyes unsurely to see if he was going to have to execute a rapid apology, but before he could fully pull back to his own personal space the black-haired wizard's lips surged forward to crash against his own once more. This time the kiss was passionate, exploratory, explosive, and anything but gentle. Draco found his hands running over the training-honed muscles in Harry's arms as Harry ran his fingers through Draco's fine, blond hair. When they finally broke apart, panting, each was wearing a flushed and joyous grin.

"Well," Harry said, catching his breath, "that certainly answers that question."

"Which question would that be?" Draco asked, straightening his tie and still unable to shake the smile from his face.

"Why you always looked so put out when Pansy used to hang off of you in the hallways."

Draco let out a chuckle, "Not as far as she's concerned, or my parents, for that matter,, but yes, the fact that I find girl parts blatantly unappealing might have something to do with it." He paused and tilted his head at Harry, "are you…?"

"...figuring this out minute by minute as I have no idea what I'm doing?" Harry finished Draco's lingering question, "Yep, I am. I always wondered, well, why girls and I didn't, erm, click, but really I just," he stuttered, "I just really wanted to kiss you. Didn't really think much past that." Harry blushed as he looked down at their hands, which had somehow joined, then looked expectantly back at Draco.

"Well, in this instance I'm actually quite okay with figuring things out as we go along." He smiled and lifted their joined hands to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of Harry's hand. Harry's blush deepened as they sat in silence, happily staring out over the moonlit Quidditch pitch.

* * *

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" the irate scream of one Ronald Weasley carried down the hallway of the potions corridor as the redhead drew his wand, shaking in anger.

"Back off, Weasley, this doesn't concern you," the cold voice of Adrian Pucey would have made a normal witch or wizard stop in their tracks, especially combined with the fact that he had an ash-pale Pansy Parkinson pinned up against the stone wall of the corridor, his wand at her throat. Ron Weasley, especially when enraged, was much thicker than the normal witch or wizard and didn't even flinch at the ice in the elder boy's tone.

"Well, it's in line behind your horrible breath and your troll-like appearance, but yes, I would actually describe your behavior as _quite_ concerning," the redhead commented brazenly, striding up to the boy, wand out.

"Get. Lost. Weasley." Adrian spat, "This is a matter between Slytherins. It's none of your business. Now scram, before I change where I point my wand." Ron had yet to take notice of the older boy's tone or the fact that it literally had first years cowering in the corner of the hallway.

"Oh, you're upset because Pansy here didn't want to become a brood mare for the dark side? Real shocker that one. Travesty. However, if you're so upset about it, I'm sure there's a spell we could perform on you that would give you the right set of organs to-"

The older boy, now shaking with rage, suddenly dropped his hold on Pansy's neck and swung his wand towards Ron. However, the second the tip of his wand was clear of Pansy's face, a jet of light burst from Ron's wand, hitting the Slytherin straight in the face and knocking him backwards several feet onto his back. When he tried to sit up, his nose had already begun to swell and bleed profusely. The swelling was large enough to keep him pinned on his back and, as the angry Slytherin struggled, a tearing sound could be heard from his nose as a bat with a body the size of a muggle bowling ball burst free from his nose. Later accounts would differ over whether it was the sight of the bat or the blood loss that caused the older boy to pass out in the corridor, but Ron wasted no time in stepping over the unconscious body to extend his hand to a wide-eyed Pansy.

"Thought he'd never shut up. Are you okay?" he said, genuine concern in his voice, taking Pansy's hand and helping pick up her books.

"I'm fine, erm, unlike him," she stuttered, watching another enormous bat fly out of the nose of the still-unconscious Pucey. "What did you do to him?" she asked, delicately gesturing at the body on the floor.

"Oh, that's one of my sister's favorite hexes," he replied nonchalantly. "Usually they're a bit smaller, but now that I think of it she might have said the bats grew some when you really got angry. Wasn't really listening. Maybe I should have," he shrugged, chivalrously holding her hand as they stepped back over the unconscious Pucey. "You hungry?"

Pansy's eyes drifted down at the bleeding body on the floor, currently manufacturing its third bat, up at the absolutely nonplussed expression on the face of the redhead, and back to her former assailant.

"Starved. I assume we should do something with him?" she asked in the same tone most housewives use to discuss taking out the garbage.

"I'm sure one of the firsties has alerted a teacher by now," he said, gesturing at the empty corner the watching crowd had previously occupied. "He'll be fine. Probably. Let's go to the great hall. I'm in serious need of pudding." With that, he offered her his arm and walked her to lunch with a proud smile and a small blush in his face.

* * *

That evening Hermione had her feet tucked up under her and her nose in a military strategy book when she heard the door open to reveal an irritated Severus, who was muttering expletives under his breath as he walked.

"Rough day at the office, dear?" Hermione's bright and joking voice seemed to snap Severus out of whatever trance he had been in and alert him to her presence. He bypassed his usual voyage to the kitchen and headed straight towards the glass tumblers and bottle of firewhisky that lived on one of the shelves, shaking his head as he went.

"You need to keep your pet redhead on a leash, my dear. The boy is an absolute menace," he said, pouring himself a generous drink.

"First of all, he's not my pet. If I were allowed to have a proper pet, you know it would be a properly-trained chimera. A ginger simply sheds too much," Severus' eye roll could practically be heard as he sat down in his usual spot on the couch, "and second of all, what did he do now?"

"Well, it turned out that Adrian Pucey was the Slytherin sent to deal with Pansy's apparent desertion. They found his unconscious body in a hallway in the dungeons, bleeding from a gaping hole in his face. I then spent the rest of my day chasing down sodding vampire bats with the wingspan of an overweight phoenix." Hermione raised a very Severus-like eyebrow, but couldn't keep in her snort of laughter.

"And you're sure it was Ron's doing?" she said with a giggle.

"The incident was witnessed by half a class of first years," he replied dejectedly into his tumbler, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well that, and the bat bogey hex is Ginny's signature hex. She'll be right miffed he used it without asking. But the bats aren't usually that big. Curious," she remarked nonchalantly.

"He must really have taken a liking to Miss Parkinson then. A number of spells that generate physical objects can vary either in size or number with the strength of the caster's emotions," he remarked, retreating into his persona of objective academic, rather than irate head of house.

"Well, that much is apparent, though I wouldn't have put money on it. Half the time when we need him we've been having to drag him out of the private room Dumbledore assigned for her and her sister," she paused to put a marker in the book she'd been reading. "Good thinking on that one, by the way. I wouldn't have thought the Dark Lord would have been brazen enough to order someone to retaliate against her while she was still in the school."

"You can never go wrong overestimating just how brazen the Dark Lord can be, my dear," he replied with a world-weary sigh. "Nor that of a Weasley, apparently. I think this means we should, unfortunately, include Weasley and Parkinson in our morning training sessions. He needs refining and she needs basic self-defense."

"So it's to become a couples thing then?" Hermione replied with a chuckle.

"Not until Potter and my thick-skulled godson stop beating around the bush and realize why they've been staring at each other since their first year," he said with another roll of his eyes.

"Funny you should mention, we had Transfiguration with the Slytherins this morning and Draco was in full Slytherin ice mask mode and Harry was blushing like a damsel."

"You think they've finally cottoned on?"

"They have. Last night. I cornered Harry after class. We've really got to work on that boy's poker face," she remarked laughingly. He offered a mock toast with his now half-empty glass.

"Well, then our training sessions are about to get another level of interesting. How long do you think I can torment them before they figure out I know?" he asked, pretending to inspect a nonexistent crack in his glass.

"You mean to pair them together and focus on hand to hand grappling, don't you?"

His subsequent grin and nod could be found in the dictionary under the definition of 'feral glee'.

"You evil man," she said shaking her head. After a pause, "I won't tell them if you won't." This time she joined him in a conspiratorial grin.


	46. 46: The Change

**Chapter 46: The Field Trip**

 **Hello lovely readers! I just submitted a dissertation outline to my chair and have *gasp* some free time until the toddlernado de-naps herself, so I actually get to write for fun!**

 **Two quick announcements: One, the lovely ZoeyOlivia was the 500th reviewer (thank you to you all...500 is incredible) and gets to PM me a one-shot plot bunny of her choice. Two, I had an amazing offer to translate this story into Chinese (which was such a nerdyawesome honor for me as a writer, I can't even tell you), so I will link to that when it materializes.**

 **And with that, I wasn't actually going to include the next morning's training session, but as a startling number of reviews requested it (more like expressed truly worrying levels of sadistic anticipation for it) who am I to deprive you? Here you go...**

* * *

It was truly a testament to the growing levels of maturity that not one harsh word or questioning look was exchanged when the five oddly paired students (and one formerly-scowling potions master) assembled in Severus' gym the next morning. When everyone had trickled in (Ron with sleep still in his eyes, Pansy with a hastily-done french braid, Draco with a raised eyebrow at them both appearing from the same direction - that of Pansy and Gabi's rooms), Severus couldn't completely hide the Dumbledoresque twinkle in his eye as he announced that Harry and Draco would be working with him on hand to hand combat and grappling while Hermione took Ron and Pansy through some drills on the gym's modified pensieve. Draco, as always, was the picture of unruffled calm as he walked toward their usual corner, but Hermione saw the blush rise to Harry's cheeks and let out a small snort of laughter, quickly blocking the subsequent elbow Harry aimed at her ribs. Severus pretended not to notice as he began instructing.

* * *

Twenty eight and a half minutes later, a thoroughly sweaty Harry, had his hands on his knees, panting as Severus gave them instructions for the next drill. The pair had said nothing as the drills became increasingly full contact as the session wore on, but when Severus instructed Harry was instructed to mount Draco so Draco they could practice getting an opponent in an arm bar, starting from a submissive position, both Slytherins were surprised to see the messy-haired Gryffindor stood straight up and fixed Severus with a perfect imitation of his trademark sneer, raised eyebrow and all. Severus met this with a small quirk of his lips, amusement perpetrating his face as he waited for Harry to speak.

"When did she tell you, sir?" Harry asked, his voice resigned.

"Last night, as a matter of fact. I must say it took long enough. I had thought you two would never figure it out." The look of pure amusement was still all over Severus' face. At his words, Draco's eyebrows both shot to the sky as his head whipped to his godfather.

"So how long were you planning on making us wrestle about for your own amusement, then?" Harry asked, more amused than angry, but clearly no longer trembling in fear at his formerly terrifying potions master.

"As long as it took for one of you to own up to it," he said with a shrug and a small laugh. "But my money was not on you to be the one to speak up, Harry."

Upon hearing his name come from the same mouth that had sneered his surname so many times, Harry blanched and gaped up at Severus in a perfect imitation of a fish on land. Draco quickly bowed his head, attempting to muffle his giggles in his shoulder at Harry's expression.

"We have for some time been past the confines of the normal student-teacher relationship, but as you previously played host to a fragment of someone who would be very put out to hear me calling you by your given name, I had to continue to play my given role. I feel it is long since time to put away our past grievances and call each other by our proper names, if for no other reason than you are now dating my godson."

Harry was still impersonating a trout, "so you want me to call you Severus?" Harry's voice cracked when he said the name, causing Draco to now double over with poorly-contained, silent laughter.

"That is my name," the older man said with a chuckle, turning his back to go get pads for some punching drills.

* * *

And so, the last days of term passed by in an almost enjoyable detente. Harry and Draco alternated with Ron and Pansy in arriving from similar directions, down-to-the-minute-almost-late, with disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, much to Hermione's and Severus' amusement. Severus made many a snarky comment about the phenomenon in the privacy of their quarters, but Hermione always laughed, kissed him soundly, and, when he began responding strongly enough to her kisses to indicate that he had completely abandoned all thought on what they had been talking about, then walked away smiling maddeningly and muttering something about the benefits of cohabitation. This technique would have been more of an effective deterrent if it didn't usually end in Severus chasing the giggling witch around the room and hauling her over his shoulder back to their bedroom for a lesson in "manners".

Severus now included Harry and Draco in his and Hermione's planning sessions to develop the curriculum for their still-regular DA meetings. The first time he had done so, Harry took one look at the giant muggle "DA" binder Severus had lying on the table and turned to Hermione with an accusing look in his eyes, "I KNEW he was helping you! There's no way you were planning all the stuff you brought me on your own!"

Hermione blushed and giggled as Harry continued to shake his head in a pretend snit as they all sat down around the table.

As their DA sessions continued, they began getting a feel of everyone's key competencies and skills. Fred and George, who still snuck into the castle for DA meetings (and for the food) were excellent at dueling, with creative approaches and quidditch-fast reflexes, but where they truly shone was strategy and spell design. From their time inventing things for their shop, they had become simply brilliant at making up specific spells for odd occasions, then using them at the exact right time. Once they had locked eyes in a practice group duel, simultaneously jumping in the air and shooting their wands down. Everyone who was still connected to the floor found themselves unable to move as they were encased in blocks of ice. It was twenty minutes before the laughing twins finished thawing everyone out so they could continue the meeting.

Ginny and the Patil twins were by far the best duelers, displaying a shocking amount of ruthlessness towards their opponents, a trait that was only made scarier, to use Ron's words, when followed by a girlish giggle, as incapacitating an enemy usually was. Luna was the resident patronus expert, Dean and Seamus excelled at anything to do with pyrotechnics, and Lavender had turned into the group's de-facto medic, showing a surprising proclivity toward healing spells. Neville had lacked confidence with offensive spells, but one day, when a first year had accidentally wandered into the middle of one of his duels, had discovered his innate predisposition towards shields and defensive spells. It never worked properly when he was just trying to shield himself, but when he had been shielding others (especially the younger ones or the girls of the group) they had worked up to almost the entire club shooting spells and hexes at his shield without being able to break through.

To safeguard the secrecy of her training with Severus, Hermione took notes in all the DA meetings, pretending to be content as the group's resident researcher and theory expert. However, she provided Severus with pensived versions of all the meetings so they could dissect people's performance in detail as they planned the necessary curriculum. All in all, the core members of the DA were approaching a level where Severus thought they might benefit from adult experience, so plans were made to bring in order members on a rotating basis after the break to special training sessions for those in the DA who might need a greater challenge.

* * *

As the holiday drew near, everyone began formulating their plans. Hermione witnessed a blushing Ron invite Pansy (and Gabi, of course) back to the Burrow with him for Christmas. Draco had used the vanishing cabinet as a welcome excuse to stay away from the Manor (and its resident megalomaniac) for the holidays and Harry couldn't have been more pleased if he tried. The final night of term, as the last students boarded the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Draco disappeared in the direction of the newly-deserted Gryffindor tower at a pace that resembled a flat out sprint far more than any other speed.

"Well I assume that means we have the day to ourselves," Hermione said with an amused nod, turning to Severus. "Have any plans?"

"Actually, my love, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on an adventure?" he said with a trademark smirk.

"Ooooh, I do love a mystery. Will this adventure involve sneaking about under Harry's cloak,,hand to hand combat, breaking and entering, or a fancy dress and heels?"

"Option one, option three, hopefully not option two if everything goes according to plan, and you are more than welcome to don option four when we return victorious."

"Intrigue, indeed. Well, Severus Snape, in that case I accept. Allow me to go don my cat burglar suit and I'll be ready in a jiffy."

As Hermione disappeared into her apprentice rooms (which now served primarily as a closet and overflow library) Severus' mind was torn between thoughts of how lucky a man he was and wondering whether she actually owned a black, spandex catsuit.

* * *

"My love," Hermione asked in a whisper as they walked away from their apparition point, "do you care to tell me what we are doing in Dolores Umbridge's neighborhood in the middle of the night?"

Severus utilized the arm that was already looped around her waist to give her a hearty squeeze, "fifteen points to Gryffindor for knowing that off the bat, my dear. Do you remember how Albus said he already knew the location of one more Horcrux?"

Hermione's eyes lit up at the reference.

"Well, he was about to go traipsing off to some Merlin-forsaken cave in the middle of the sea when I retrieved the results from one of the dark magic detectors I had one of my contacts place in the Ministry. It would seem our esteemed undersecretary is followed around by a cloud of incredibly dark magic everywhere she goes. After a little more investigation, I noted that she seems to wear the same locket every day, regardless of what other pink, ruffle nonsense she decides to frighten the villagers with that day. I thought this odd, especially as it had not a passing engraving of a cat on it, so I did a little research and it would seem the locket she wears bears a striking resemblance to one originally owned by Salazar Slytherin."

Hermione's eyes widened and for a second Severus feared she would begin bouncing with excitement in her seat as she did as a first year so many lifetimes ago, "It's got to be a Horcrux then!" She whispered, but still couldn't contain her excitement. Severus nodded with a smirk.

"Oh you wonderful man!" Her eyes suddenly transformed from wide with excitement to slits of suspicion as she turned to inspect Severus' smirk under the cloak, "Albus doesn't even know we're here, does he?"

The smirk only grew, "I figured he would enjoy a nice, end of term surprise."

Hermione shook her head as they made their way towards the house.

* * *

"Dementors. Who has dementors guarding a private residence?" Hermione whispered quietly as they stood outside the gate.

Severus shook his head, "a paranoid old bat with something to hide, that's who."

"They can sense us through the cloak, but I have an idea. What if I tried to cast a patronus very faintly under the cloak here with us? It wouldn't have to drive them away, in fact it probably shouldn't, but it would give us the shield we need to get inside."

After a second of consideration, Severus nodded and gestured to Hermione that she should cast her otter. With a hint of pride, she didn't reach for her wand as she cast a wandless, silent patronus, her eyes on Severus rather than the silver light inching out of her hands. She only looked down when she saw Severus' eyes widen in shock.

"When did you last cast a patronus?" he asked in a sharp whisper.

"It's been a while. Maybe since before the fiasco at the ministry. I really don't know when…" she trailed off, still awestruck at the silver decidedly non-otter prancing around under the invisibility cloak. She couldn't help when the small fox tried to play yank with a strand of Severus' hair, bushy tail almost wagging with glee as she nudged him with her muzzle, obviously trying to prod him into playing with her.

"Well it's not my otter, but this little girl seems to be quite enamored with you. Can't say I blame her," she stated quietly, watching as Severus eyed the way the fox's bushy tail flowed after her as she bounced around under the cloak.

"She appears to be just as insane as the witch who conjured her then," he said with a small smile. "It's off to St. Mungo's for the both of you later, but first you both have a job to do."

They continued past the dementors and into the house, whose insides were just as pink as their owner's clothes and gave of the same putrid feeling of evil as did their owner's overall temperament. Fortunately, other than the dementors, Umbridge seemed to have only bothered with the basic levels of warding and protection, meaning that Severus stripped it down in under a minute without breaking a sweat or having to resort to using his wand. Once inside, the two snuck past an unpleasantly-snoring Delores, who was passed out on the couch with a pink plate of even pinker cake precariously balanced on the face of the large pink cat who adorned her sleeping robes and followed the palpable tinges of dark magic up the stairs and into a large jewelry box her closet. A few duplication charms later, a convincing replica was in the box and the original locket was pulsing angrily in the dragonhide bag inside Severus' pocket.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Severus made quick work of disposing of the locket after Hermione did a convincing job of aping Harry's parseltongue to get it to open. They were just debating whether to bring it to Albus in the morning or to leave it on his desk for him to find when a flash of gold appeared mid-room, heralding the appearance of one very smug looking phoenix.

"Hello, Fawkes!" Hermione cooed at the bird, running to the kitchen to grab a biscuit for their avian visitor.

"You really do take the fun out of everything, don't you?" Severus addressed the bird as he dropped the still-smouldering locket into the bird's outstretched talon. Fawkes simply tilted his head in a clearly affirmative nod and leaned into Hermione's hand as she stroked his feathers. When he had finished his biscuit the phoenix nuzzled Hermione's hand, gave a derisive trill in Severus' general direction, and disappeared with the hunk of smouldering former horcrux in a flash of gold.

"Well that settles that, I guess," Severus said dejectedly, still glaring at the empty swath of air that had formerly held Dumbledore's phoenix.

"Such a spoilsport, that one. It's almost as if he has magical powers or something," Hermione said cheekily, beginning to take off her jumper. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Wash off the Umbridge, you know? Any interest in a game of wizard's chess before bed?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "You hate wizard's chess. What are you playing at, woman?"

Hermione laughed over her shoulder as she sauntered towards his bathroom, "yes, but you love it. Plus, you didn't get to rub Albus' nose in the horcrux, so thoroughly trouncing me should give you something to gloat over."

"Great, pity gloating. Not nearly as fulfilling, if you ask me," Severus grumbled quietly to himself as he started setting up his chess board.

"I heard that!" came a cheery voice from the already-running shower, followed by bell-like laughter.

"Impudent witch," he said with a begrudging smile, shaking his head. Then, halfway through setting up the board he suddenly stiffened. With a tiny shake in his hands, he drew out his wand. He took a few deep breaths before he cast, readying himself for the familiar sight of Lily's doe, but knowing deep down he probably never would again. He thought of the first time he had woken up with Hermione in his arms and spoke the incantation. A bright white light shone out of his wand and, when he saw the animal form, his breath caught in his chest.

Standing imperiously on the coffee table in front of him was an overly large, male fox. He had a missing chunk from one ear and had several unnatural lines in his fur that seemed to indicate previous fights and an overwhelmingly defensive air to his posture. Severus watched aghast as the creature bounded off the table and proceeded to sniff around the edges of the room, almost as if he was checking the perimeter. When he had made a clean sweep of the room, he laid down at Severus' feet, one eye on his conjurer and the other clearly still watching the door. Severus was still watching the creature's antics when he heard the shower go off and saw Hermione emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy white towel, sopping wet curls cascading over one shoulder as she toweled them off. Her eyes widened when she saw Severus' guardian, but she didn't speak or interrupt the bonding session between man and patronus.

After a few minutes of watching the vigilant guardian stare at Severus and the door, she held out her palm and wordlessly conjured her own patronus. Her fox was smaller, clearly female, and didn't have the missing chunks of fur that clearly spoke to Severus' fox's history of combat victories, but they were clearly the same species. The smaller fox bounded over to Severus' guardian, clearly uncaring of the threat against which the larger fox seemed to be guarding. The two humans watched silently as the young fox play pounced on him repeatedly, bushy tail almost wagging with visible mirth, until the larger fox gave a very Severus-like look of begrudging acceptance and started play fighting with the smaller fox. They roughhoused animatedly for a few more minutes before bounding out the window together, leaving Severus and Hermione alone together.

"When did you know?" Hermione asked quietly.

"The second you conjured yours," he replied, staring through her with his obsidian eyes.

"So...foxes?" Hermione said breathlessly, still slightly at a loss for words.

"Foxes mate for life," he replied without taking his eyes off of hers. His velvety voice seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

"Yes they do," she replied, despite the growing tightness in her chest, taking the first step towards Severus.

He met her halfway and swept her into a breathless kiss.

"Yes we do."


	47. 47: All But One Now

**Chapter 47: All But One Now**

 ***quickly sets down chapter and backs away quietly***

* * *

"You're sure it's here?" the nervous voice of Harry Potter rang out against the silence of the room of hidden things.

"Trust me, Harry, I spend far more time in this Merlin-forsaken room than I ever wanted to. I know I've seen it somewhere, I just need to figure out where it was," Draco responded, never taking his eyes off the piles of discarded and lost objects, stacked precariously all around them.

"Right. And how's your, erm, special little project going, then?" Harry asked, pressing himself a little closer to the blond as if he could sense the other man's discomfort.

"I know exactly how to get it working, thanks to our friendly neighborhood swot. The problem is actually making it look like I'm making a good faith effort without accidentally fixing it too soon. They can sense changes in the cabinet's magic from the other side, so I have to spend some time tweaking it each day, without getting too close to the actual answer. It's like trying to emulate Longbottom in potions class. Exhausting."

While Harry a few years ago would have gotten upset, the newly Voldemort-free Harry simply rolled his eyes and delivered a swift swat to the back of Draco's perfectly coiffed hair. The Slytherin made a show of looking afronted and smoothing it back down, but silently grabbed Harry's hand as soon as he was done.

"Is that it?" Harry's skills looking for a small, golden object on the quidditch pitch apparently translated well to spotting a small, silver object off it. Draco craned his head to look up to the top of the pile Harry was indicating, where a silver tiara hung precariously from the handlebars of what looked to be a rusty muggle bicycle.

"I knew I brought you with me for a reason," Draco said happily, placing a quick kiss on the Gryffindor's cheek as he moved forward to slowly levitate the tiara down into the dragonhide sack they'd brought with them. Harry shuddered as it hit the bottom of the bag with an ominous thunk, much too loud for an item of such little weight.

"You will never know how relieved I am to have that thing out of my head," Harry said, almost as if to himself, it a faint whisper. Draco didn't respond, but for a quick squeeze of their joined hands.

"Let's get this to Severus and Hermione. It'll be nice to get to surprise them for a change."

Harry snorted, "I doubt it. Those two are always twelve steps ahead. They've probably been making wagers on when we'd come up with the idea to find the last horcrux by ourselves."

"That, my good sir, is a product of the fine features of Slytherin house. We're always ahead of the game," Draco said with a haughty smirk as they stepped back into the castle proper, the door to the Room of Requirement shrinking behind them as they set off to the dungeons.

"Um, I think you're forgetting that Hermione's in Gryffindor. Your noble house wouldn't touch her due to some nonsense about impure blood? You tormented her about it for years? Vomiting slugs? Broken nose? Any of this ringing a bell?" Harry joked along as they walked, grateful to have the castle practically empty so they didn't have to pretend to hate each other any time they were out in public.

Draco just scoffed, "Sure she wears red and gold, but that girl's got more tricks up her sleeve than Salazar Slytherin himself. Did you know she's an animagus?"

Harry shook his head, "I know she was all put out about there not being frequent enough lightning storms a while back. She hid it kind of well, but when I saw her reading up on weather magic to see if she could take matters into her own hands even I cottoned on. What is she? Have you seen it? She wouldn't admit to anything when I asked her."

"Oh she'd never admit to anything...like a true Slytherin," Draco replied with a knowing look, "but she kept harassing me to hand over my notes on the vanishing cabinet, and when I refused, they suddenly disappeared from my room overnight."

Harry looked at him quizzically, "how does that mean she's an animagus? She could have just snuck in when you were sleeping."

Draco gave him a look of derision almost reminiscent of the potions master whose quarters they were rapidly approaching. "Please, I've had warning charms put up around my bed since I was a third year. Anyone gets within two feet of my bed hangings a bloody wailing noise would wake everyone in the castle. Anyone human that is. Also, I saw a distinct paw print on one of my bedsheets, so I'm not sure what she is, but whatever it is doesn't have claws, wings, or flippers"

Harry shook his head again, " I'd try to guilt it out of her, but I swear her vulnerability to emotion is disappearing at an alarming rate. It's almost…" Harry stopped talking mid sentence, looking over at Draco with eyes wide.

Draco grinned like the cat who got the cream as he rapped on the door to Hermione's and Severus' rooms, "Told you. Slytherin."

When Hermione opened the door wearing a dark green sweater and a greyish-silver knit scarf around her neck, Draco's grin only broadened. Hermione gave him a strange look, but admitted both boys to their sitting room, where Severus was already sitting, muttering angrily as his red quill slashed away at a stack of partially-graded potions essays. Neither showed too strong of a reaction when the two boys presented the horcrux. Severus snapped into business mode, quickly conjuring the metal bin in which he had disposed of the previous horcruxes and wasting no time engulfing the tiara in a laser beam of fiendfyre until it was nothing but a hunk of smoking, melted metal. Hermione gave both of the boys happy hugs and a look that almost resembled maternal pride.

As the two boys left to bring the smouldering remains to Dumbledore, Draco elbowed Harry quietly in the ribs and, with a quick jerk of his head, gestured back to the room. Harry's eyes followed Draco's gaze just in time to see a glaring Severus depositing something that looked suspiciously galleon-like into the outstretched palm of a triumphantly laughing Hermione.

* * *

The next morning Hermione managed to drag Harry away from the blonde slytherin currently hiding up in the newly-emptied (thanks to the holidays) Gryffindor dormitory and having a well-deserved lie in. After some grumbling about how he had hoped to catch up on some sleep as well, Hermione dragged the even messier than usual head of black hair out of bed and off to accompany her to the owlery. It was partially for the company, but she also wanted to fill Harry in on the latest developments in the Order's training plans.

Severus had, as of their last training session before break, declared their "merry band of misfits", as he referred to the three oddly paired Gryffindor-Slytherin couples that had taken to training together in their morning sessions, ready to begin training with the Order. Even more surprising, they had decided that since Moody, Minerva, Poppy, Dumbledore, and Remus already knew about Hermione's (and in the past year Harry's as well) intensive training, it was the appropriate time to let the rest of the Order in on their planning. Harry nodded along, but, having known Harry since they were eleven, she could tell he was slightly nervous about the rest of the Order seeing the full extent of his training.

"Is it that you don't think they'll think you've done enough?" she asked quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes at her omniscience with a begrudging smile before visibly sinking back into his thoughts, "It's hard to explain. I know I've been working as hard as I could since...well, since I led you all into the fiasco at the ministry...it's just...I'm still the Boy Who Lived. Is it really possible for me to _ever_ have done enough to prepare? The DA is one thing, because I do know more about the offensive uses for patronuses than Neville and Dean. I can teach the Patil twins to shield themselves from stray hexes, but the Order...these are fully grown witches and wizards with real experience dueling real Death Eaters. Some of them have been Aurors since, what, since they fought alongside my parents? How can I ever be ready for them to look to me like I'm supposed to have all the answers. Like I've got the secret way to defeat Voldemort hidden in my back pocket?"

Hermione smiled warmly, stopping on the owlery steps to put her arms around Harry and squeeze him as tightly as she could. Given the amount of training she'd been doing, this caused Harry to let out a very unmanly squeak of discomfort, causing Hermione to laugh and release him, the tension broken.

As she pulled away, she left her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye, "You aren't in this alone. You may well be Harry Potter, Boy Wonder, but no one is looking to you to end this thing by yourself. In fact, I know Severus, Draco, and I would all be quite put out with you if you didn't let us get a few good shots in, and I don't think you're really prepared to deal with a miffed Severus." She shook her head dramatically and Harry laughed the laugh of a partially relieved man.

Still looking back at Hermione, Harry stepped into the owlery and ran head first into a very flushed Ron Weasley.

"Oi! Um, Harry! Hermione! Hey! I, erm, what are you guys doing up here?" Ron's ears and face were almost as red as his hair.

"Hermione's dragged me along to mail a letter to her cousin. Zoey Olivia something or other,"

Harry tried to walk into the owlery, but Ron blocked his path, "Oh really? How's your cousin? What's going on?" Ron asked, a little too hastily. Harry tipped his head at Ron, as if trying to understand his strange behavior. Hermione, on the other hand, was grinning through her teeth and seemed to be on the verge of laughter as she spoke.

"Oh, she's just like me, a million things going on, trying to solve everyone's problems all by herself. She's got a load on her plate, so I figured the least I could do is write her something encouraging. That is, if we could ever get access to an owl to take it to her," Hermione ended poignantly.

Harry tried to walk in again, but Ron just stuttered uncomfortably as he sidestepped to either side of the doorway, his body somehow always blocking Harry's path of entrance, no matter where Harry tried to walk.

"Is everything okay, Ron?" Harry asked, finally stopping any attempts to walk forward with a huff of frustration.

"Everything's fine," came a female voice from inside the owlery. Soon the slim form of Pansy Parkinson rounded the corner, impeccably dressed, but for the fact that her expensive sweater seemed to be on inside out and the love bites just barely visible below the dip of her Slytherin scarf. She grabbed the head of the still-blushing redhead as she walked by, pulling him with her with a smile. "Ron was just helping me mail something, wasn't he? Such a gentleman."

Ron nodded speechlessly as he was pulled along, still blushing as he disappeared down the winding stairway.

"Were they…?" Harry trailed off in horror.

"Most certainly yes," Hermione responded with a laugh.

"In the owlery…?" he asked with a grimace.

"It would seem so," Hermione said, now more amused with Harry's revulsion than the situation itself.

"Ew." The Chosen One feigned vomit as he finally headed into the owlery.

* * *

That night, Hermione and Severus sat curled up in their usual spots on the sofa by the fire in their sitting room. Both had books in their hands, yet neither was paying them any mind. Hermione had her head resting on Severus' chest, her back pressed against his side, his arm around her shoulders, and her feet across the sofa as they spoke.

"So Albus reacted well to your plan then?" Hermione asked, worry in her voice.

"If you call almost having a stroke and leaving me with a twitching pile of headmaster to clean off the floor of his office reacting well, then yes, everything went swimmingly," Severus' dry wit got a mild snort of amusement out of Hermione, but the furrow of her brow didn't disappear.

"You know he's right to worry, though. It's not like I don't trust your abilities, you know you're the only person I do trust at this point…." she trailed off without finishing her statement.

"Why do I sense a but coming?" He asked, nuzzling into her bushy curls and inhaling the scent he loved so much, the one that with all his training as a potions master he still could only describe as _Hermione_.

"There's no but," she said defensively. "I trust you with my life, you know that." She took a lengthy pause. " _However,"_ she stressed the word, though she could practically hear her dark wizard rolling his eyes, "I don't know what I would do if something went wrong. If I lost you. I can't…" she turned around to face him, seeing the dark eyes to which she had grown so attached staring down at her with an intensity that always took her breath away. "I can't lose you. You're the only thing I can't lose." She finished with a sad little smile.

He didn't waste a second between her confession and pulling her up and into his lap, pulling her tight to his body, but not kissing her yet nor breaking eye contact, despite the fact that their noses were now almost touching.

"You are going to have to work far harder than that to get rid of me, Miss Granger," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "We only have one left, plus you know I'm of no use to us anymore. Not in my current role. It's actually safer this way."

"You mean I might not have to scourgify as much blood off the floor after you come back from your meetings?" she said, trying in vain to lighten her mood.

"I swear to you, after this the only meetings I'll have to attend are our weekly staff meetings, so if there is blood to be scourgified, it will surely not be mine," he finished with a deep chuckle, pulling his still-worried witch into a tight embrace.

"I still won't be able to relax until you're home and safe," she mumbled quietly into the line of buttons down his chest, occasioning another deep laugh.

"It's okay, my dear, if you were able to stop worrying I would immediately begin checking you for signs of polyjuice," he said, occasioning an actual laugh from the witch in his lap, before she pulled back and slapped him in the chest. He laughed while securing the offending hand in one of his, using his newfound leverage to flip her onto her back and kiss her soundly until she began making small noises of contentment and her hands tangled in his robes.

"You promise you'll be careful? You promise you'll come home to me?" she asked between kisses.

"Always."


	48. 48: The Defection

**Chapter 48: The Defection**

 **I haven't been doing music recommendations with this story, but I would highly recommend listening to Devil Went Down to Georgia, especially the Emerson Drive version for this chapter. The youtube link is here (youtube *dot* com *slash* watch?v=C4mL0A-g9U4), and it's most certainly what was playing in my head as I wrote it.**

* * *

Night had already fallen over the Manor when Draco and Severus apparated in following their summons. It was the end of the Christmas holidays and the Dark Lord usually tried to take advantage of school being out of session to monopolize Severus' (and now Draco's as well) time. Both had their occlumency shields slammed solidly into place, so they made the cold walk up the gravel driveway and through the wards in a focused silence. Both nodded respectfully as they passed other cloaked Death Eaters on their ways to the large table where they usually met. As usual, the Dark Lord was seated at the head of the table, pointedly ignoring the simpering advances of the obviously unhinged Bellatrix to his right side, instead doting on the coiled length of snake sitting on the floor to his left, still bloated with the bulk of her recent meal.

Severus had seen his share of depravity in the too many years he had spent with other Death Eaters, but there was something to that woman that never failed to unnerve him. Others committed dark deeds for money, personal gain, anger, greed, or, like himself, simple self-preservation. Bellatrix did them for sheer enjoyment. Even Lucius could be seen to pale, if that was even possible for one with his usual pallor, and turn away when Bella started toying with her victims. The Dark Lord was all too happy to weaponize her ruthlessness for his own gain, but it was her battle-crazed recklessness which kept her from occupying any place of true respect with her esteemed master.

Severus, as planned, took his seat on the left side of the table, directly across from Draco, who was seated between his parents. Lucius carried the air of a dying man, his once lustrous blond hair now seeming brittle and just as fragile as the rest of him. Whether it was his stint in Azkaban or his loss of esteem in the eyes of the Dark Lord since his return, he seemed the living embodiment of a dog which had been kicked one too many times and now seemed to live in fear of the next, inevitable blow.

Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed to have been slowly purged of her Malfoy traits as she endured the hardship of the past few years. Her hair had darkened significantly since Lucius had been arrested, and she wore the tall, regal posture indicative of her place in the Ancient and Noble House of Black. She sat still as ice as her unmoving eyes seemed to survey the room. Despite the filth around her, she seemed only to have been hardened, strengthened, by the misfortune and situation of her family. Her only show of weakness was in the obvious softening of her posture towards Draco as he took his seat next to her. She reached up and briefly cupped his cheek in her hand, her eyes flashing with a brief spark of life, love, and warmth as she nodded subtly to him before the spark was extinguished by the resurgence of her ice queen exterior. They both sat wordlessly, Slytherin masks of haughty indifference firmly in place.

Had he not been so alert in anticipation of that night's events to come, he would have been bored as the meeting started with the usual ramblings of the unhinged madman they called Lord. _Mudbloods bad, Harry Potter's head on a stick, old fool Dumbledore, yes, yes, all the greatest hits. Do get on with it._ Severus felt the closest he had felt to nerves as the minutes ticked on. Finally, they began going around the table, each being questioned in turn by the red-eyed glare of the snakelike man at the head of the table. The preparations for the infiltration of the ministry were underway, Greyback was busy infecting key wizards with lycanthropy to create a demented army of Dark werewolves, and Bellatrix was coming up with a permutation of the cruciatus curse which kept going when cast once, rather than draining the caster's magical energy with the toil of casting continuously. _Oh joy, because that's what the world needed. Cruciatus without the bloody effort. It must be so draining for her to have to wait while torturing people. Poor Bellatrix…_

Finally, after Lucius stuttered his way through saying he'd been a good boy and was ready for another assignment whenever the Dark Lord was ready to trust him again, the red glare of the Dark Lord finally turned towards Draco. Severus sat up imperceptibly straighter and slowly slid his wand down his sleeve to rest in his palm, calming and centering him as he waited for his moment.

"And young Draco," the timbre of Dark Lord's voice alone made Severus want to apparate back to the castle and rub himself raw with the strongest cleansing potions he could create, "how goessss your tassssssk? Have you made any progressss with the cabinet?"

"Actually, my Lord," Draco began, his voice solid and his head tall, far more a mirror of the Black posture of the woman to his left than the quivering blond Malfoy to his right, "I believe I have solved it. It will of course require some test-"

"You have?" Severus' voice broke sounded through the dark room, interrupting Draco in the middle of his report. The young blond looked confused and immediately glanced to the Dark Lord, as if seeking instructions on how to handle this unprecedented interruption. The Dark Lord, however, was far too enthralled with Draco's news to even pay Severus' interruption any mind. Seeing the Dark Lord's interest, Draco continued speaking.

"Yes, as I was saying I think with a few tests it-"

"Why didn't you come to me with this news?" Severus asked, a nervous hurry to his usually-smooth voice.

"Ssseverussss? Do you have a problem that needs to be addressssssed?" The Dark Lord's sights were now trained solely on Severus.

"No, my Lord, I just requested that, as the boy's godfather and head of house he would have informed me of his progress, that's all." Severus said, his usual calm now visibly ruffled.

"Draco, did you have a reason for ignoring the requesssssts of Ssseverussss?"

"As a matter of fact, my Lord, if I could speak to you in private about that matter, I believe that…" Draco stopped talking as Severus slowly stood out of his chair, pushing it back from the table.

"Sssseverussss? Do you have ssssomewhere to be? Sssssit down." It was not a request. It was an order. From the Dark Lord, whose red eyes were pulsing angrily at the still-standing head of Slytherin house.

"Actually, I don't believe I will sit. I think I've sat at this table for far too long. In fact…" Severus jumped back behind his chair and swished his wand through the air towards the Dark Lord, who screamed a shrill, inhuman, wail of agony and anger which made chills run up the spines of everyone in the room. The second the light shot wordlessly out of Severus' wand, all hell simultaneously broke loose.

The quickest to his wand was Draco, who shot an immediate stupefy across the table at his godfather. Severus hadn't finished casting yet, but saw the spell coming out of the corner of his eye and used his nondominant hand to create a wordless shield, which bounced Draco's stupefy back at the young wizard himself, knocking him a half dozen feet backwards and into an unconscious heap against the back wall.

Upon hearing the Dark Lord's scream, Bellatrix immediately dove towards him, her hands questing through his robes in the effort to find where his injury had been. The Dark Lord, however, shook her off violently, cursing as he rose to his feet, his wand tracking the fleeing form of Severus, who had progressed along the table after his initial attack and was halfway to the exit at that point.

"I'm fine, you fool. Lucius, raise the blood apparition wards!" They all felt a gust of wind as the Malfoy family wards slammed into place.

 _Well that was less than ideal._ Severus thought in irritation. _Of all days for Lucius to be on his game. I guess it's to be the hard way then. Hermione's going to be pissed, even if I do get out of here alive._

At this point, the Dark Lord had levitated himself up onto the meeting table and was bearing down on Severus at an alarming rate. Severus, however, was much quicker. Holding his left hand up, palm outstretched, casting a strong, wordless shield around his back, Severus shot green jets of light at several of the Death Eaters at the table. Greyback, Rodolphus Lestrange, and, surprisingly, Crabbe Senior, each in turn slumped where they sat at their seats, Lestrange and Crabbe with their wands out and aimed lifelessly at Severus, Greyback frozen with his fangs bared and claws extended. The other Death Eaters seemed to be more focused on self-preservation than attack, as they fled from the table, not wanting to become collateral damage in the ensuing duel.

Severus faced the Dark Lord on the table, his previous facade of nerves and shakiness abandoned like an unneeded cloak as a feral grin spread across his face.

"About time someone fought back against you, _My Lord_ ," his last words dripped in the sarcasm he usually reserved for Gryffindor first years who exploded more than one cauldron in the same class period.

The Dark Lord let out an enraged hiss and shot a torrent of fire out of his wand in Severus' direction. Jumping unnaturally high in the air, Severus dodged the Dark Lord's fire in a flurry of black robes, shooting a succession of cutting spells in the Dark Lord's direction as he flipped sideways in mid air. The Dark Lord hastily dropped his fire to shield himself, but not before one of the spells nicked a hole through the Dark Lord's robes and into his shoulder. A dark red line of slow-oozing blood became visible, occasioning gasps from several of the Death Eaters left conscious in the room.

"Not so strong without your little pet there, are you?" Severus taunted, drawing everyone's attention to the smouldering pile of bloody scales resting on the table where the Dark Lord's familiar had sat at the beginning of the meeting. "Why do you think that is?"

The Dark Lord let out another ear-splitting shriek of rage as he lunged towards Severus, his wand shooting razor-sharp icicles rapid fire at the black-clad man. At this point a matching wail of fury came from the frizzy haired lunatic to Voldemort's right, but Bellatrix was swept off to the side of the room with a wave of the Dark Lord's hand.

"He is MINE!" the Dark Lord bellowed as any Death Eaters who had started following Bellatrix's offensive lead immediately retreated into the back corner of the room, alongside those who obviously had no intentions of getting in the middle of the duel between the two, highly skilled, fully furious, black-clad wizards.

As Severus continued to parry and dodge the Dark Lord's increasingly violent spellwork, he advanced slowly along the long table towards the Dark Lord. He jumped to dodge a jagged, purple burst of flames and spun into a flying roundhouse kick so that his right foot made direct contact with the Dark Lord's left cheekbone. There was an ominous crunch followed by a moment of eerie silence, in which the onlooking Death Eaters watched agape at the muggle violence against their sworn master. The Dark Lord was panting with fury as he reached one pale hand up to his cheek, drawing it away to reveal a trickle of dark, molasses-textured, maroon blood running down his skeletal fingers.

The look of fury in his red eyes made a basilisk's glare look like a child's nightlight. He let out another scream of unbridled fury and aimed his wand at Severus.

"Avada kadav-" Severus' eyes widened with fear, seeing that he had nowhere to hide, having closed the range so greatly between him and his assailant. _Forgive me, Hermione. At least I got the snake._ He thought with his last breath, before putting all his might behind a shield charm he knew wouldn't be effective against the killing curse. He shut his eyes waiting for the inevitable blow.

When it hit him, however, the blow came not in the expected form of a green blast of light from the wand of the Dark Lord, but in the form of a surprisingly-sturdy body from somewhere on Severus left, diving across the table and knocking him out of the way of the Dark Lord's curse with only a hair's breadth to spare. As Severus tried to turn to see what, or who, had tackled him, he felt the familiar squeezing feeling of being pulled into a space far to small for his mortal body actually to occupy. The last sound he heard as he felt the side-along apparition pull him away was another shriek of utmost anger as the Dark Lord was thwarted once more.

* * *

Severus opened his eyes to find himself in the woods just outside the gates of Hogwarts, not far from where he normally apparated to when he returned from their usual meetings. He rolled over, noting that a less-than-graceful landing had left him with a mouth full of foliage, spitting and coughing as he looked up.

"Narcissa?" he asked incredulously, watching the witch attempting to pull some brambles out of her somehow now fully-black hair.

"You're welcome, Severus," she said casually, now brushing off her skirts. "I knew you had a plan from the second you stunned Draco, thank you for giving him plausible deniability, by the way, but I must say, I had hoped it would be a much more intelligent one than that. What exactly did you stand to gain by irritating the Dark Lord into a duel in a house with anti-apparition wards, precisely?"

Severus rolled over on his back, still panting from the duel, the adrenaline, and the hasty apparition. "The bloody snake was a horcrux. It had to be done. I was, however, dearly hoping that your shell of a husband would have been a little slower on the uptake. A calculated risk, but one which had to be taken, I'm afraid." He finished and began standing up, several joints popping in the effort. As his statement was met with silence, he looked up to see Narcissa's face paled with horror.

"A horcrux? Are you serious? He made one?" Narcissa stuttered, helping Severus up absentmindedly out of habit more than intention, still flabbergasted at the revelation of Voldemort's now-dead familiar's true status.

Severus let out a pained chuckle, accepting Narcissa's hand and using it not only to stand up, but as leverage to pop his shoulder back into joint, "He didn't make one. He made seven. One was by accident, but still. Nagini was the last to be destroyed. " He let go of an actual, full-bodied laugh at Narcissa's look of wide-eyed surprise and revulsion.

"Rethinking your defection, Lady Malfoy?" he asked, feigning chivalry as they began walking towards the castle.

"No, just wondering how long poor Draco's had to stall on that damned cabinet so you could galavant about the countryside chasing shards of the Dark Lunatic." This got another actual laugh out of Severus.

"You always did have a way with words, Cissa. I'll be glad to have another adult around."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, "Do I want to know?"

"No," Severus huffed in put on exasperation. "You'll be quite surprised at the company I keep these days. However, I think you and one of my newfound...associates might get on worryingly well for the rest of us. Regardless, I'll be grateful for an additional ally."

Narcissa inspected Severus for a second, then gave him a knowing wink, "I can't wait to meet her, in that case. She must be quite the witch if she has the great Severus Snape calling for backup."

Severus continued walking, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a plea for Merlin's aid in dealing with cheeky witches.

"So I assume you're going to beg asylum from Albus?" he asked as they felt the castle wards wash over them, each breathing a sigh of relief.

"Malfoys don't beg, Severus. You know that," she said primly.

"If your hair's anything to go by, you're not a Malfoy anymore," Severus said with a smirk.

Narcissa's mouth raised itself into a feral grin, her eyes twinkling like a sinister version of Albus, "All the better then. Blacks don't even ask."

Severus' laughter could still be heard echoing through the entryway as they disappeared down to the dungeons.


	49. 49: Additions and Removals

**Chapter 49: Additions and Removals**

 **So glad you all liked my version of Narcissa. I have always loved fics that portrayed her as a strong, confident, badass, so I guess this was my contribution to the genre. And yes, Snape's muggle combat against Voldemort made me far too giddy. Glad you enjoyed it! Also, thank you so much to all who have left reviews (especially my adopted UK grandmother MinervaMac). They make my day!**

 **And with that, a bonus chapter, because I'm having a rough day so I figure why not...**

* * *

When Severus opened the door to his private sitting room, defying the 'ladies first' mantra drilled into every self-respecting gentleman of Slytherin by the age of 12 solely so she wouldn't get fried to a crisp by his zap-happy wards, a streak of bushy curls flashed across the room with almost inhuman speed and he staggered back as his arms were suddenly full of witch. He chuckled, patted her back, and ran one hand through her curls as she seemed to attempt to burrow into his chest in the attempt to reassure herself that he was, in fact, alive and unharmed. She hadn't even managed to drop the potions periodical she had been trying to distract herself by reading, so she simply curled her body around his, seeking reassurance. After a few seconds she pulled away with a questioning look in her eyes, looking up at Severus, still completely ignorant of anything or anyone else in the room.

"Did you get it?" she asked quietly.

Severus smiled and nodded, his hand lightly brushing her cheek, "Nagini and whatever else was in her body are both no more."

Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief, "And you're not harmed?"

Severus shook his head, holding out his arms as if for inspection. Hermione looked him over, took another deep, relieved breath, and then began brutally and rapidly beating Severus about the head and shoulders with the now rolled up potions periodical still bunched in her flailing fist, yelling at him between blows.

"Then. What. The. Hell. Took. You. So. Long!" Thwack, thwack, thwack. "I've. Been. Dying. With. Worry." Thwack, thwack, swat, thwack.

Severus lifted his arms in defense, trying to grab the offending paper out of the angry witch's hands, but -in true testament to the quality of her training- she evaded capture for a few more angry sentences before he finally snatched it away from her.

"Oh I see what you meant, Severus. I do think this one and I will get along quite well," came an amused feminine voice from the doorway. Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Hermione's wand instantaneously shot into her hand and her posture changed from 'friendly attack with a rolled up paper' to 'defense against the hordes of darkness' in the blink of an eye. When she saw it was Narcissa, however, she immediately straightened out of her defensive crouch and banished her wand back to wherever it had come from.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione bowed her head respectfully, "it's an unexpected pleasure to see you. I assume this means you have chosen to make a shift in your allegiances?"

Narcissa eyed Hermione with an amused tilt of her head, "what makes you think that, my dear?"

"Well, I trust anyone Severus lets through his personal wards, and if that weren't enough, your lack of blonde would be a dead giveaway that you'd severed some magical ties with the Malfoy family. I'd always wondered if the blonde was genetic or magical, actually," the Gryffindor stated factually.

"Intriguing," Narcissa said with a warm smile, "And you are correct. Also, under those circumstances I do believe you should call me Narcissa. Severus here fears the results an alliance between us might bring and I do so love when I can make a new friend and terrify poor Severus all in one day."

Upon hearing Narcissa's words, Hermione burst into a brilliant smile and extended a hand to the elder witch, "Hermione. And I think Draco should actually be more worried than Severus," she said, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. Turning to Severus, she added, "I assume you painted him as quite the loyal Death Eater in making your departure?"

Severus nodded, "he's as safe as one could ever be around the Dark Lord. Stunned from his own reflected spell, as planned. Now we'll just wait for his return to hear of the Dark Lord's reaction to tonight's events. Narcissa, would you like some tea while we wait?"

Narcissa had busied herself in taking off her outer robes and had already made herself comfortable on one of Severus' sofas. "No need," she said with a smirk, waving a perfectly-manicured hand in the general direction of Severus' kitchen as a tea set and tray came floating towards them, preparing three cups of tea as they flew. Hermione stifled a laugh and, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, used a similar silent wandless spell to summon a set of biscuits to each of the plates on the tray.

"Oh I like this one, Severus," Narcissa stated with approval as she took her first sip of tea, eliciting another grin from the Gryffindor across from her.

Severus watched the two witches with horror, shaking his head in consternation. "Merlin have mercy on my soul and I'll be in the shower. I'll let Narcissa fill you in on the evening's occurrences. Draco should return shortly. I would say to make yourself at home, but I fear the liberties you would take…" And he walked off towards his private rooms, still shaking his head at the tittering witches already deep in conversation.

* * *

An hour later found the two women still on the sofa, teacups long since drained, discussing the potential ramifications of the night's events. Narcissa had filled Hermione in on Severus' dramatic exit. Hermione had grinned proudly when Narcissa mentioned Severus' use of a muggle kick in a duel against the manic blood purist. Narcissa paused and tilted her head inquisitively when Hermione leaned in to explain that that particular kick was what Severus called her 'signature move'. When Narcissa suggested she ask him for a small amount of royalties for using it in public combat, an irritated voice rang over from Severus' desk, where the scowling potions master was attempting to grade essays.

"I would like to remind you, ladies, for the third time, that I can in fact hear you from here. Narcissa, don't make me regret bringing you here."

"And I would like to remind you, your royal surliness, that it was I who brought you here, dear," Narcissa responded without missing a beat.

Hermione brought a hand quickly to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Severus turned his scowl to face his frizzy-haired witch, but was immediately distracted by the entrance of a weary-looking Draco coming through the door. He had already removed his Death Eater robes, but promptly banished them back to his dormitory as he went over to the sofa to sit next to his mother. As he sat, Hermione poured him a cup of tea, which he accepted with a grateful smile.

"I'm glad to see you well, Mother. The Dark Lord was hoping his curse hit at least one of you, despite the hasty disapparition. I'm happy to see that's not the case," Draco said, sinking into the sofa, the Malfoy straightness of his back relenting as he sank into the cushions.

"How bad was it after we left, my dear?" Narcissa asked worriedly. "I can only imagine the Dark Lord was...displeased."

Draco, head tilted back onto the back of the sofa with his eyes shut, snorted at her description. "That's definitely one word for it. I was still stunned when you two made your grand exit, but he renervated me first before the crucios began flying. Apparently he wanted me to watch what happened to all the others who didn't think to curse you immediately. He was so angry at the others that he didn't think to punish me for using a _stupefy_ instead of an _avada_ , so thank Merlin for small mercies, I guess."

"I'm proud of you, Son," Narcissa said warmly, resting her hand on top of Dracos. "I'm glad to hear you made the right decision."

Draco opened his eyes to look at his mother, then glanced over at Hermione, "I assume you've filled her in on just how long ago that decision was made?" Hermione nodded.

"Well that's good. I'm glad you're safe, Mother, because I've never seen him as angry as he was tonight. Father...bore a great deal of the punishment for your actions."

Narcissa swallowed, a brief look of pain and sympathy crossing her face, quickly replaced by the mask of Slytherin calm Hermione was so used to seeing on Draco and Severus in moments of turmoil, "I had assumed it would. Lucius hasn't been the man I married for a long time. I wish I could have saved him too, but he seems to be in too deep, at least right now."

Draco nodded solemnly, "it's not your fault."

His mother smiled fondly at him, "I know that, dear, but thank you."

Stifling a yawn, Draco made to stand up, "Would you like me to accompany you to the Headmaster? I assume you'll be in need of a room, since you must be staying here for a while. I have to give him my report of tonight's events, so I'm on my way anyway." As he spoke, he put his wand to his temple, drawing out a familiar silver thread of liquid and dropping in into a conjured vial, stoppering it and then tossing it over to Severus, who nodded and stuck the memories of the night's meeting in his breast pocket.

Narcissa rose to go with him, stopping first to give Hermione a warm hug, whispering something into the younger witch's ear as she did. Hermione smiled mischievously and whispered something back, occasioning a peel of laughter from the Malfoy matriarch. Draco looked on, a mix of confusion and shock on his face.

"You let them become _friends_?" Draco asked Severus incredulously.

"When has a matter as trivial as permission ever deterred either one of these witches from doing anything, Draco?" Severus' drawl was dry with the sarcasm of acceptance.

Draco staged a very Harry-like shudder before extending an arm to his mother.

"Oh joy for me," he said sarcastically.

His mother's playful slap hit his shoulder at the same time as a balled up parchment, with a trajectory from the smirking Gryffindor on the sofa, hit the back of his head.

Neither wizard missed the stage wink Narcissa aimed back at Hermione over her shoulder. Draco's mutters could just barely be heard as the pair of Malfoys left the room.

"So screwed."

* * *

The next morning Draco took Narcissa to see Pansy and Gabi, who had been housed in the same unused wing of the castle Hermione now called 'reformed Slytherin row'. Hermione had given her the news that Pansy and Gabi were both safe within the castle and had been able to continue their education via private tutoring, even though they couldn't be left unattended with a large portion of the student body, namely the Slytherin children of active Death Eaters.

Pansy and Gabi had been regular visitors to the Malfoy estates all throughout Draco's childhood, so the elder woman warmly embraced the two young witches as soon as she entered the room. While Draco pretended to page through Pansy's potions book, Narcissa sat on the bed talking to both young witches, catching up, asking about life in the castle, and ensuring they were getting everything they needed. As class time drew nearer, the three embraced again as Narcissa promised to spend some time with Gabi during the day when Pansy was completing her homework. Finally, Draco managed to drag his mother away towards the door. As they were leaving the rooms, Narcissa turned over her shoulder with the beginnings of a smirk on her painted lips.

"Oh, and Pansy dear, you seem to have a scantily-clad Weasley boy hiding in your closet. You might want to see to that before you head off to class. Have a good day, my dears!" And with that, Draco's eyes darted to the closet then dropped to the floo, seeing Ron's petrified expression in the mirror he clearly hadn't noticed then shaking his head in disgust. Narcissa waved jauntily and grabbed Draco's arm and steered him from the room.

* * *

The morning of the meeting that promised the eventful merging of the Order and the top students in the DA, Hermione awoke and stretched to find her Slytherin already awake and sitting on the side of the bed.

"You okay, Severus?"

The black haired wizard almost startled, or as close as Severus Snape ever came to startling, revealing how deep in thought he had actually been. Hermione stretched like a cat and crawled up from the sheets, Severus discarded shirt from the night before still drawn around her in place of nightclothes, and settled behind him, her legs straddling his waist so she could rub his back. His posture immediately softened at her touch and he let out a slightly pained sounding sigh.

"I need your help with something," he said faintly, looking down at his left forearm, which was outstretched across his lap, palm up to reveal the slithering snake emerging from the tattooed skull which had plagued him for so long. "Do you think the procedure we used to remove the horcrux from Harry would work on...me?" He gestured, not wanting to call his mark by name.

Hermione's hands stopped moving on his shoulders as she thought, "it would be hard, especially with just the two of us…." she gave his shoulders another quick squeeze before winding her body around his side and maneuvering into his lap, "...but I think it just might. Do you want to try it?" She asked, looking into his eyes and finding a pleading, desperate look of innocence that showed just how desperate he was to be rid of the Death Eaters once and for all, as well as how little he had ever really belonged there.

"I have some time after my…" she stopped talking at the look of almost childlike desire in his eyes and couldn't completely stifle her laughter, eliciting a much more age-appropriate glare.

"You want to do it now, don't you?"

She laughed again as he nodded rapidly, as if she should already have known this.

"Can I get dressed and brush my teeth first?" He looked tempted to deny her, eyeing the way his button down shirt hung off her slim figure with slitted eyes, but nodded reluctantly, seeming to reign in his inner male for the sake of the magnitude of what they were about to attempt.

* * *

A few minutes later found a dressed and brushed Hermione preparing a bucket under the table where Severus sat, occlumency shields in place, shirt rolled up, and arm outstretched across the table. Since Severus was the only one who could control the healing spell, Hermione would be in charge of managing Severus' magical energies, pain relief, severing the raised Dark Mark, cauterizing the wound, healing the incision, and moral support. She had suggested they bring Ron back in for the latter, as he had done such a swimming job with Harry, but Severus was too deep in his occlumency shields to cognize that she had made a joke, so she simply went back to her preparations.

She managed to magically alter the whale DNA to make his left forearm (and only his left...she was not doing this a second time on a perfectly healthy arm for the sake of symmetry) bulge out around where the Dark Mark was located. After they activated the spell which made his magic visible, she began shooting the light spells they had used on Harry, aiming at his torso through his back. When they saw the swirling brown tendrils that emerged from the Dark Mark begin to draw back in and away from the silver pulses of Severus' internal magic, she began using the spell to usher them up and out of his body until they were isolated in his forearm.

Once Severus began using his dominant wand hand to use the light spell to trap the swirling tendrils of dark magic only in the raised bump of his enlarged forearm, the real work began. Hermione used her left hand to cast a wandless freezing charm on his entire left arm. The numbing charm they had used on Harry would have been preferable, but between the two of them they only had three usable hands, which were already spoken for performing the light-spell containment, cutting, and healing charms, so unless they wanted to let Severus bleed freely until the end of the surgery (which he had briefly suggested only to be shut down when her hair began to spark), they needed a charm which could be cast once and then would remain throughout the procedure. Hermione had started to broach the topic of asking someone else to come help, but received a Snape-glare that would have rendered a first year into a pile of quivering ash. Hermione simply rolled her eyes, but acquiesced to "the inane demands of a lunatic with trust issues".

With Severus' arm thoroughly frozen, they began the process. It was harder for Severus to keep the dark magic contained while being the one who was being operated on, but Hermione was always one to master a learning curve, so with a look at the sweat beads forming on Severus' forehead, she hastened the speed of her wandwork, pouring a visible increase of her magic into her two spells, and within a minute they both heard the grotesque plop of flesh in bucket. Severus finally let go of his light spell and promptly leaned back in his chair, head resting on the back with his eyes shut as he panted. Hermione snapped into healer mode and began waving her wand back and forth over the wound muttering chanted healing and scar prevention charms.

When Severus felt her stop moving, he opened his eyes, but sought out Hermione's chocolate eyes instead of looking down. She smiled reassuringly and nodded reassuringly, using her wand to vanish the remnants of the Dark Mark and banish the bucket back to the storage closet. She saw Severus' chest rise as he took a deep breath and slowly looked down at his left forearm.

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes as she saw the mix of emotions sprint across her wizard's face as he saw the pale expanse of unmarked flesh on his outstretched arm. Sadness, elation, regret, joy, gratitude, and wonder, each in quick succession ran through his eyes. When she saw them redden and begin to water, she felt almost as if she should look away to give the stoic, usually emotionless Slytherin some privacy, but, ever the Gryffindor, she instead found herself diving into his lap and burying her head in his chest, muttering words of comfort into the folds of his sweat-soaked shirt.

Grateful for the distraction, Severus buried his face and breathed deeply, inundating himself in the fragrance of her curls, still not daring to speak. When he finally did, his words came out as a whisper.

"Twenty years...it's...it's finally gone." He sounded almost as if it was a question.

"You're free, my love," she said, kissing whatever bits of neck, shoulder, and chest she could reach without leaving his embrace. "You're free."


	50. 50: Meet the Allied Forces

**Chapter 50: Meet the Allied Forces**

 **Hello my dears! So this one was supposed to cover a great deal more material than actually got in there. Hermione...well...she has a mind of her own these days, and this is what she ended up doing. There's really no controlling her at this point, but I have a sneaking suspicion you won't mind too terribly much.**

* * *

Now that school had begun again and all the members of the DA had returned, it was time for the first great combined Order of the Phoenix/Dumbledore's Army battle preparation session. Severus made the arrangements with the Order, Hermione with the DA members who had been chosen to participate. Harry worried that he wouldn't be advanced enough to be seen as a leader, Draco worried that he wouldn't be accepted due to his family's history as pureblood, elitist, muggle-torturing, mask-wearing madmen, Ron worried he'd trip over his own feet, and Pansy worried Ron's acceptance of her wouldn't be enough to keep her from getting hexed.

The day of the meeting, as arranged, the DA minus Hermione met in the Room of Requirement, as usual, while the Order flood into Dumbledore's office and proceeded one by one into the dueling space Hogwarts seemed to have hidden in one of the unused wings on the fourth floor. Once everyone had arrived, Hermione would activate her charmed galleon to send for the DA, which Harry would lead over en masse.

This allowed Harry to prepare the chosen DA members to be on their best behavior, and Hermione to be there to help Severus prepare the order for the Slytherins in their midst. Severus had been an order member since the first war, but Hermione was, well, Hermione. She was a Gryffindor, muggleborn, golden girl who was best friends with the Chosen One and broke records with every exam she sat. When it came to opinions on potentially suspicious Slytherins, her opinions would be far more heeded than would Severus', as there was still no love lost between Severus and several order members with Severus-sized chips on their shoulders.

Hermione was waiting alone in the dueling space when Order members began filing in. First Moody arrived, dragging along his new protegee, a clumsy, loud, pink-haired (usually), metamorphmagus auror in training named Nymphadora Tonks. Hermione had met the woman a few times over her various summers at Grimmauld place and the two had taken to each others' company like nifflers to a bank vault. The two had bonded over their being non-Slytherins with latent Slytherin tendencies, the stupidity of men, the usefulness of a well-timed right hook, and a shared love of muggle cinema. Hermione greeted the pink-haired friend with a well-timed hug, seeing as the auror was in the process of tripping over a loose thread on the carpet. The two talked rapidly and animatedly, earning several dirty looks from Mad Eye, who chose to sit and stare at his grizzled notebook instead of partaking in actual human conversation. However, when Remus arrived next, Hermione immediately saw the blush in Tonks' cheeks, waggled her eyebrows at the young auror, and suddenly made herself scarce, claiming to have a pressing question that only Moody could answer.

Order members trickled in one by one, including Kingsley, Dumbledore, Hestia Jones, Madame Pomfrey, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector, as well as the entirety of the Weasley clan, minus Percy (who was still being a complete prat, to use Ron's words) and Ron and Ginny (who were downstairs with the DA). When everyone had arrived, Dumbledore cleared his throat and informed everyone that the meeting tonight would be a bit different.

"We have had some developments, as of late. I would first like to extract a wand oath from everyone present that the details presented tonight do not leave the confines of this room. The information we are about to discuss would be absolutely devastating in enemy hands, and we all remember what happened with Peter Pettigrew, so I hope no one will have any objections." The silent _or there's the door_ following this speech was nonetheless understood by all. "Miss Granger, if you would?"

Hermione and Albus had what Hermione called 'a very amusing meeting' (Severus referred to it as a screaming match less pleasant than a Mandrake choir concert) about how specifically to introduce the Order at large to Hermione's advanced capabilities. A large portion of the order had known her since she was a wide-eyed, eleven year old muggleborn, still aghast at the world of magic and would have a hard time switching their perspectives to adjust to the fact that she could probably outduel anyone in the order save Severus or possibly Albus himself without breaking a sweat. Eventually, they settled on the idea that Albus could ease them in with some demonstrations of her advanced spellwork and magical prowess, hoping her reputation as a shameless swot would bridge the gap between what a sixth year should be capable of and what actual Hermione, currently closer to twenty seven years of age than twenty six and battle hardened from almost a condensed decade of military training, could actually do. Hermione didn't want to share any more than was absolutely necessary, while Albus was adamant that she would need the full trust of the Order, and was ready to reveal as much detail about her schedule for the last few years as were needed to accomplish that goal. In the end, when her hair sparks were becoming an actual fire safety hazard, Severus had stepped in and "politely" (for Severus) suggested that they use Hermione's preferences as plan A and, if it was necessary, Hermione could reveal more information as needed as a backup plan.

As predicted, Molly Weasley's voice was the first to question this new development, "I'm sorry, Albus, don't you think a matter of such importance would be better performed by a more, erm, experienced wizard? No offense, Hermione dear."

From the back of the room, Severus almost chuckled at the range of reactions to the Weasley matriarch's unknowing blunder. Moody snorted with amusement, not taking his eyes off his notebook, Minerva donned a knowing little smile all so feline in nature he could almost feel the rodents of the world get a little nervous, Poppy giggled into her handkerchief, unsuccessful in the attempt to convert it to a cough, and Albus began twinkling so maniacally it would have put a muggle disco ball to shame. Molly Weasley, however, never one to notice such subtle signs, tilted her head at Albus, clearly awaiting an answer.

"Don't worry, Molly. Miss Granger has undergone a great deal of training. I'm sure you'll find she is more capable than you realize," he said poignantly.

Feeling dismissed and not liking it one bit, Mrs. Weasley harrumphed and plowed on ahead, "I'm sure she's done very well in all her classes, but this is just too important a matter to leave in just any hands. Maybe she could conduct the wand oaths for my family, while you do those for, erm, _other_ members of the Order?"

It was obvious to everyone present what was being insinuated in the word "other", namely Molly's distrust of anyone whose hair did not resemble a bonfire. Some eyes widened, but Hermione was the only one to actually speak up.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I'm sure I misheard what you just said," she straightened up in her chair, tilting her head sharply to the side the way a large cat would do in order to better hear its fleeing prey. She continued with a voice calm yet lethal in its intensity, her mannerisms resembling Severus far more than they did those of an sixth year girl, "It _sounded_ like you just inferred your family was more trustworthy than the rest of the Order, but I know that can't possibly be what you meant to say."

Molly blustered out a rapid denial that didn't fool anyone. "No, dear, of course not, I simply meant to say that a wand oath would take so long to enact with so many wizards present. You probably haven't seen it done, but the process is quite lengthy and takes a great deal of magic to perform. It only makes sense for multiple people to..."

Before the words finished coming out of her mouth, a blast of golden magic seemed to emerge from Hermione's general direction, feeling like a sudden strong wind that tousled about each and every Order member. Almost blinded by the golden glow, they each felt the pulsing magical energy sweep into their cores and behind their very magic to absolute secrecy. The rustling wind subsided as quickly as it had come, leaving only the tingles of the wand oath and the subtle bounces of the curls cascading from Hermione's tight pony tail as evidence that the massive magical wind had existed at all.

Those who had not had previous knowledge of Hermione's training gaped at the small slip of a witch, currently smirking proudly in her seat. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be doing her best trout on dry land impersonation.

"Well then," Albus began, still twinkling madly, "let's get started with some recent news."

* * *

With as little detail as to how it was done, Albus recounted to the Order the presence and subsequent destruction of Voldemort's horcruxes. He mentioned their number and a few examples, but managed to keep Harry's name out of things. Hermione had previously thought to bring Alastor into the loop about the horcruxes and their plan to destroy them, no one in the group was skeptical or distrustful of the whole matter, simply taking Dumbledore at his word.

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, uneasy as Dumbledore switched topics. The next part of the meeting would be the most difficult.

"Now, we must move quickly as it is only a matter of time before Voldemort realizes we have eliminated his safety net and begins creating more horcruxes. We have a spy in the inner circle of Death Eaters who has been charged with repairing a vanishing cabinet within Hogwarts itself that, when functional, will allow the Death Eaters passage into the school itself. We will be prepared for this occurrence and, when the moment comes, we will trap the Death Eaters in the room in which they enter and neutralize a majority of the inner circle all at once."

Murmuring broke out amongst the members. Finally, Moody banged his walking stick on the floor in the attempt to restore order. Again, Molly Weasley's was the voice which carried.

"Albus, I know you put a great amount of faith in Severus, but isn't letting Death Eaters actually enter Hogwarts a step too far?"

Hermione's eyes, already trained on Severus and by now used to decoding the smallest changes in his facial expressions, saw what no one else in the Order could hope to detect: acceptance. Although no one but Hermione could see it, the slight downward cast of his eyes, the tightening of his muscles, the way the lines around his mouth pulled down a fraction, she saw then the horrible truth, that Mrs. Weasley was not the only one who still held the choices Severus had stupidly made over two decades prior against him. Severus did as well. It finally made sense to Hermione why Severus, the man who had successfully dueled Voldemort himself not two days prior and walked away without a scratch, was letting the apron-clad matron of the Weasley family speak about him as if he was a greasy seventh year dabbling in the dark arts. Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits.

Not seeing any of this, Mrs. Weasley continued her tirade, " I know he's brought us some valuable information in the past, Albus, but isn't this a lot of trust to put into someone who willingly became a Death Eater when he was just-"

"Do not finish that sentence, Molly."

No one had seen Hermione stand up, but now that she had spoken not a single eye could have been peeled off of her if Voldemort had tap danced by in a wig. The usually bushy-haired Gryffindor had drawn herself up to appear far taller than her actual five feet five inches. Her black robes were subtly blowing in a wind of unknown origins that didn't seem to affect anyone in the room but her. There was something feral and predatory in her posture, conjuring the image of a large cat who had honed in on something small and furry that would soon become a snack. As Severus and Albus had both discovered the hard way, Hermione's hair usually crackled, sparked, and popped with an alarming magical electricity when she got angry. Now, the charge in her hair was so severe that her muggle hair tie actually burst into frame and fell away, letting her hair loose into a fiercely crackling mane of sparks, flowing in the wind that somehow still only affected her, almost hissing with pent-up electrical charge.

Molly's eyes widened as she saw the transformation of the witch before her. Her eyes widened with poorly-concealed terror as she grabbed tightly onto the arm of her sheet-white husband at her side. Had she been looking, Hermione would have seen a twinkle of amusement in Albus' eyes. Had she been paying attention to it, she would have seen Alastor roll his normal eye while scooting his chair subtly back away from the invisible path between her and Mrs. Weasley. She would have seen a small upward twitch of Minerva's lips as she watched her young pupil advancing across the room with feline grace. Had she been watching, she would have been the only one in the room who could detect the small hint of pride in Severus' otherwise inscrutable face. Hermione saw none of it. As she slowly stalked towards the now quivering redhead, hair crackling behind her, Hermione's gaze was directly focused on the Weasley matriarch before her. As she came closer Mrs. Weasley made to stand up, but Hermione was suddenly very close, looming very large, with one hand on the redhead's shoulder. A threatening parody of a gesture usually known for comfort, the presence of Hermione's seemingly small and innocuous hand on the woman's shoulder made the older witch visibly shiver as it magically pinned her to her seat, rendering her incapable of movement or flight.

Other than the sizzling noises coming from Hermione's hair there was absolutely no sound in the crowded room, so when the young witch spoke, her words, surprisingly quiet and calm for the amount of tangible, wrathful force behind them, were clearly heard by all.

"Molly," the elder witch shuddered slightly in the venom with which the junior witch spat her given name, "there is not a single person you hold dear who would not be dead at least once over if it weren't for Severus Snape. I trust him with my life and you certainly owe him yours. Voldemort would have long since destroyed our world without the thankless suffering of that man over there, but he is too noble to let you see what he has given up so that you and your family and so many others can sleep safely in your beds at night. You owe him your gratitude, your trust, and your respect. However, if those are too hard for you to comprehend, the least you owe him is your silence."

At this point the spellbound room watched as golden wisps of smoke-like light, the same color as the golden crackles from Hermione's hair, shot out of Hermione's free hand, wrapping their way around the frozen Weasley matriarch the way a boa constrictor would approach a chubby mouse. They got brighter and brighter as she continued speaking.

"It would be in your best interests that you refrain from any disparaging comments about Severus from now on. Understood?"

She tilted her head in a predatory manner, as though one wrong word from her captive prey and she would pounce. Molly nodded rapidly, her face now white with fear, almost matching the clearly-visible whites of her eyes.

"Excellent."

The second she said the word, the golden wisps of smoke that had been ominously winding their ways around Mrs. Weasley vanished into the redhead witch with an audible clap. Hermione nodded abruptly and straightened up, her hand leaving the older witch's shoulder, allowing her to slump in her chair, breathing heavily. Hermione turned on her heel, returning to her chair across the room, assuming the persona of the unthreatening teenage bookworm they had all seen at the beginning of the meeting. She spoke casually while pulling another hair tie off her wrist and securing her curls into a messy bun.

"Plus, Mrs. Weasley, it wasn't actually Severus who was given the task of fixing the vanishing cabinet. Albus, have our last two members arrived yet?"

And with that jaunty statement, casually addressing the only wizard the great and terrible Lord Voldemort was still afraid of by his first name, Hermione Granger went from adolescent bookworm to highly-skilled -and slightly terrifying- colleague in the minds of the members of the Order of the Phoenix.


	51. 51: Stranger Allegiances

**Chapter 51: Stranger Allegiances**

 **Ahhhh! She liiiiiiives!**

 **After a horrible month of prepping for my dissertation proposal (which I passed on Thursday, thank Merlin), the mythical Katrione emerges from her cave and deposits a chapter carefully at your feet. Everyone should send DutchGirl01 flowers and hugs for prodding me into getting this done this weekend.**

 **Enjoy! We're getting close now!**

* * *

At the words 'new members', the eyes of all the members who were not privy to Severus and Hermione's inner circle (basically everyone but Albus, Minerva, and Alastor) immediately panned to the door. In what Hermione had become fond of calling a typical Slytherin entrance (read: understated yet still irreparably overdramatic), the last sane members of the Malfoy family stood motionless in the threshold. Draco's face was frozen in the "Slytherin mask" she claimed he and Severus wore when they were projecting neck deep into their occlumency shields to prevent anyone from catching a glimpse of real emotion. Narcissa, however, was the one who drew everyone's attention.

Her posture was every inch the Malfoy Matriarch, dressed in stark yet flowing robes that were somehow both buttoned up and still floating slightly with the air currents of the room. Contrary to most people's experiences with the black-clad Malfoys, her robes were of a deep purple that contrasted with her pale skin to give her almost a regal exterior. However, it was not her robes but her hair which caused more than one gasp from the assembled Order members. Since her days at Hogwarts, everyone had always seen the witch with the typical Malfoy-blonde platinum gracing a majority of her well-disciplined locks. Now, however, her hair had finally been released from its highly-charmed straightness and was now cascading wildly down to her middle back in dark, flowing tresses of raven black, wavy curls. Hermione almost snorted as she saw her, projecting the mental image to Severus that this is what would look like if someone took Bellatrix to a muggle beauty salon and gave her a Brazillian blow-out. Hermione was quite pleased with herself when the accompanying mental image of Bellatrix under a heat lamp caused a small crack in Severus' stoic facade.

While it was abundantly clear from her appearance that Narcissa was far more Narcissa Black than Narcissa Malfoy, the collective whispers of confusion amongst the Order members continued until Hermione stepped forward to greet the newly-arrived Malfoys. With a formal manner to her actions, she stepped forward and offered each of them a slight bow as she welcomed them to the meeting. Despite fighting on the side of the light, most of the Order members were well-versed in pureblood cultural norms to know the significance of Hermione's gestures of formal acceptance as the Malfoys bowed back in turn and followed Hermione to the two empty seats that had somehow materialized next to Tonks. The whispers quieted almost in a wave as Narcissa and Draco walked proudly over to the empty seats, seemingly uncaring that they were two proverbial snakes in a den of lions. Seeing the way Tonks bristled at being so close to her estranged aunt, Remus was the first to find his voice.

"Erm, Albus, I do believe it's time to let us in on the circumstances that led us to these, uh...new additions?" he asked in as gentlemanly as possible of a tone, clearly fighting with his inner wolf's instincts to place himself between the young witch on his left and the Slytherin duo that was making her so evidently uncomfortable.

Dumbledore was full-twinkle when he cleared his throat to address the room, "young Draco here has been passing us information from within Voldemort's inner circle since he approached me the summer after his fifth year. He took his father's imprisonment as an opportunity to select a different path for himself. I elected to keep his position secret from all but a select few, for his own safety, but he has proved himself and the intelligence he brings to be invaluable and unassailable. I would vouch for his loyalty with my life and expect all members to take that as sufficient proof, yes?" Seeing Dumbledore's grandfatherly twinkle vanish, only to be replaced with a stern, almost challenging glare, the Order nodded collectively. As soon as he had achieved assent, the twinkle returned and Dumbledore continued.

"As for Madame Malfoy, Draco began having suspicions that her loyalties might have shifted roughly a year ago. These suspicions were confirmed when Severus made his public stance against the Death Eaters and she facilitated his escape, openly opposing both Voldemort and Lucius. And yes, as most of you have most likely noticed, that was when the familial magic that causes the Malfoy family, er, coloring wore off." There were still whispers all around the room, culminating with Moody opening his mouth as if to speak, only to be silenced by Dumbledore. "Madame Malfoy anticipated that she might not be as well accepted as her son and has graciously offered to undergo a public questioning under veritaserum to expedite the acceptance of her true loyalties. Would that satisfy your issues, Alastor?"

Moody looked taken aback, but nodded begrudgingly. Dumbledore conjured an ornate-looking chair in front of the group and escorted Narcissa to it on his arm. He offered her a vial from his robes, which she drank without hesitation. Her posture still that of a queen, she turned in her seat to face Moody and tilted her head expectantly. Moody, ever the dog with a bone, wasted no time.

"Mrs. Malfoy, are you currently a servant of the Dark Lord."

"No."

"Do you have any lingering affiliation, loyalty, or duty to serve Voldemort or his Death Eaters."

"No."

A collective sigh could be felt throughout the group, but Moody was not finished.

"Have you ever had any loyalty to Voldemort?"

"No."

Moody turned to Albus, "this is preposterous! You fed her bloody gillywater. You can't expect us to believe-" Albus cut Moody off with a gesture of his hand and simply motioned for Moody to continue questioning.

"If you haven't ever been loyal to the Dark side, why in Merlin's name have you supported your husband as Voldemort's lieutenant all these years? Why is he living in your bloody house?"

"My loyalty is currently and has always been to my family. Originally this meant supporting Lucius as my husband, but I have come to the realization that Lucius is, at least for the moment, beyond helping. My only loyalty now belongs to my son."

The room was silent.

"So if Draco turned back to Voldemort, you would as well?"

"My loyalty to Draco lies in his long-term best interest. I see no possible upside to his living under the reptilian thumb of a deranged madman. If Draco turned back to Voldemort, the best I could do for him as a mother would most likely come in the form of a swift stupefy to the back of the head followed by a mandatory, supervised, and long-term stay in one of the Black family safehouses off the continent."

At this statement, an audible snort escaped the stunned, pink haired witch who was now openly gaping at her aunt. Narcissa's head turned to face her niece and bestowed the first truly warm smile any of the Order members had ever seen grace her features. This caused Tonks' hair to cycle rapidly through the rainbow as she fidgeted in her seat. While the dilation of Narcissa's eyes and the rigidity of her posture showed that she was heavily under the effect of the Veritaserum, her words and gestures still manifested the regality and breeding one could expect from a woman of her position. She turned to face Moody once more.

"Have I satisfied all of your questions?"

Moody nodded, unsure of what to make of these declarations. Dumbledore moved to Narcissa and offered her the antidote, but she waved him off with a quick gesture.

"While I am still obviously incapable of lying, might I clear up one misunderstanding, Albus?" Dumbledore nodded and waved her on with a knowing smile.

"My dear Nymphadora, it is one of the greatest regrets of my life that I was forced to part ways with your mother. I miss my sister every day and it is deeply painful to me that I have not been able to be a part of your childhood. I sincerely hope that, in time, you and she might both consider me family once more."

WIth this, Narcissa released another beaming smile at the now openly-weeping Tonks, turned to Albus, and plucked the antidote out of his hand, returning to her seat next to Draco as she drank.

* * *

After the Order had recovered from the events of the meeting, they managed to collectively pick their jaws up off of the floor and conduct a thorough accounting of the state of affairs with Draco's mission, the vanishing cabinet, and the fact that they could now plan for a final confrontation with Voldemort. As they wound around to the "planning" portion of the meeting, Hermione signaled to Harry on their DA galleons that it was time for the student group to make their way to the Order meeting. She nodded to Dumbledore, who in turn got the attention of the Order.

"Now, as many of you with children here might know, Harry Potter has been leading a study group of sorts since the days of Dolores Umbridge's tenure at Hogwarts. Harry, Hermione, Severus, and myself have carefully screened each member of this group and have determined that, should they wish to participate in this final confrontation, they have earned their rights to do so. As such, we have decided that these students should be privy to our planning and, more importantly, be part of our training as we draw nearer to that day. I would like for you all to welcome the members of the unfortunately-named Dumbledore's army."

And, with a sense of timing that could only be orchestrated by Dumbledore himself, it was at this moment that the doors swung open to reveal a large group of students standing at the doorway to the Order meeting. Harry stood at the forefront, with Ron on his right and Ginny on his left. Hermione had to fight the maternal pride she felt swelling in her throat seeing Harry stand tall and proud with the group of students he had invested so much time in training, so far from the small boy she first met so shortly after he had come out from his cabinet under the stairs. This new Harry, Hermione was pleased to see, stood with no arrogance, but with the confidence of every hour of his training with Severus, Moody, Albus, and Edgar. His body was that of a man, hardened by physical training and molded by experience. Ron wore a lopsided smile, while Ginny sported the look of concentration she usually reserved for Quidditch matches. To the far left of the group, Neville seemed to be watching everyone's flank, a sense of uncharacteristic ease and happiness emanating from the formerly-gawky student. To the far right of the group, Fred and George shared a smug look that could be easily tracked to the stunned look of horror on Mrs. Weasley's face, no doubt due to the realization that her four youngest children would all be active participants in the final battle. In between these pillars could be seen a flush of excitement from Lavender and the Patil twins as well as a shared look of excitement between Dean and Seamus.

Hermione and Draco quietly approached Harry and exchanged the same formal gestures of acceptance Hermione had previously showed the Malfoys before settling on either side of Ron and Ginny and turning to face the stunned Order.

After a moment or two of silence, Albus was finally the one to break the tension. "Well then, it would appear we have some training to do."

* * *

After a thorough yet brief discussion of their battle plan for the day Draco "finishes" working on the vanishing cabinet, the Order members, now including the students who had formerly comprised Dumbledore's army, was put through an obstacle course of sorts, designed by the remorselessly sadistic Alastor, Severus, and Hermione to determine which members needed to focus on what skills in order to be equally prepared and useful for the upcoming battle.

Members who were current Aurors or otherwise involved in regular magical and physical feats, such as Tonks, Kingsley, and Remus, were sorted into the "strategy" group, where they joined Hermione and Severus to plot over an enormous magical board where arrows, diagrams, and color-coded lines danced about a miniature version of the school like lights at a muggle disco. After the events earlier in the meeting no one questioned Hermione's presence in the strategy group and everyone was still frankly too intimidated by Severus to mention anything to him about it.

Members who had been key players in the first war but were a little rusty on their physical fitness, such as Molly and Arthur Weasley, Madame Pomfrey, and some other members with magical know how but sedentary desk jobs, went to the makeshift gym in the corner of the meeting room where Alastor gleefully shot stinging hexes (and some other less benign spells) at them while they attempted to run, jump, crawl, and (later on in the evening) hobble their way through transfigured obstacles and challenges.

The majority of the Quidditch-obsessed members of the DA were sorted into a magical dueling group. This group was led by McGonagall, who, along with Narcissa Malfoy, had surprisingly enough beaten them all through the physical portions of the trial course. Both women had been breathing heavily, but neither had a hair out of place as they shared a knowing look while they waited for the younger members at the finish line. For the rest of the meeting, they lead Fred, George, Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, the Patil twins (who were surprisingly agile), and some of the quidditch-playing elder order members through increasingly complex rounds of offensive and defensive spellwork. By the time they began practicing on each other in mock duels, this group was sweating almost as badly as those being physically "trained" (read: gleefully tortured) by Moody in the other corner of the gym.

Finally, there were several smaller, ad hoc groups meeting in various areas of the room. Albus had pulled Harry aside into the corner of the gym and they seemed to be hard at work at occlumency and legilimency drills, ensuring no one could pull battle plans from Harry's head. Although, Harry had progressed greatly once he, as he phrased it "pulled his head out of his arse and began listening to Hermione like he should have all along". Similarly, the healer Hestia Jones had pulled Lavender and Luna aside and was practicing a variety of healing spells with them on some conjured wounds on alarmingly-realistic practice dummies.

By the time the clock struck 11pm, everyone was well and truly exhausted. More surprisingly, the intense training session seemed to have gone a long way towards bonding the members together as a team. A very sweaty Fred and George Weasley had draped themselves on either side of an equally sweaty (but much more dignified about it) Draco Malfoy, completely ignoring his protests as they bantered with a very amused Narcissa Malfoy. It seemed that Narcissa's inner Black had been enticed out of hiding by the twins' auras of mischief and the three made, as the onlooking Ron had described it "a truly horrifying trio". Luna was stretching her leg casually up in the air and almost to her shoulders while talking absentmindedly to Kingsley, whose face had made Neville burst into laughter as he walked by. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were bantering with a Remus, who had his arm casually draped around a blushing Tonks as he spoke with the three young men, looking more comfortable than Harry had seen him in ages, the smile on his face almost rivaling that which Harry had seen in the pensieve memories of the Marauders in action.

Overall, everyone seemed to be in the right state of mind: calm, focused, engaged, and unified. Hermione found a pair of dark eyes from across the training room and projected to him a feeling of warmth and optimism. They had destroyed all of the horcruxes. Severus' dark mark was gone. Soon they would face the Dark Lord, hopefully for the last time. She basked in the warm smile emanating from her mental contact with Severus, despite the ever present scowl still fixed on his face. They weren't ready now, but she knew they would be.


	52. 52: The Coalition

**Chapter 52: The Coalition**

 **Happy Wednesday morning everyone, you get a surprise chapter! This is a bit shorter than usual, but it kind of had to end where it did. (You'll see.) Hopefully the next one will come up soon and might be quite a bit longer to make up for it.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone for your amazing reviews, support for my academic adventures, and overall awesomeness. I'm trying to get this completed over the summer, but I won't sacrifice quality for speed and these characters really have minds of their own so I can't ever truly predict what they'll do. Anyway, on with the show, so to speak. And a special welcome to LFA, who left me happy reviews on more than half of the existing chapters while binging the story over the last week or so. *curtsies***

* * *

After a month of group training sessions, the ad hoc groups into which they had initially been sorted began to run together. While seeing a sweat-drenched Molly Weasley shooting dirty looks at Moody while attempting to catch her breath sprawled on the training room floor had been amusing, more so for the other Weasleys of the group, some of whom (Arthur) hid it better than others (Fred and George), it had a leavening effect on the collective mood of the order members to see everyone beginning to come together as an equally-matched force.

As the sessions progressed, those in the "conditioning" group regained the fighting stamina they'd had at the peak of the first war. While previously a sweaty mess of limbs and scowls, Poppy Pomfrey and Molly Weasley seemed to bond over some shared spirit of a perpetual caregiver that unleashed both of their inner 'mamma bears' into a truly alarming duo. As had been the case with the discovery of Neville's shielding ability in the early days of the DA, it seemed their powers were unlocked when defending others, especially the younger members of the group. During one multi-pair dueling session Molly and Poppy had been dueling each other next to an in-progress duel between Ginny and Kingsley. Kingsley got off a good stinging hex just at the right moment, catching Ginny in the left shoulder and causing her to squeal in pain, and, without communicating it to each other, both elder women immediately abandoned their duel and shot spells at Kingsley. Later, after Kingsley had been rennervated, he had a hard time explaining to the group just what it felt like to be hit with a freezing spell of that magnitude at the exact same time as he was hit with that strong of a burning hex. After that, Molly and Poppy seemed to prowl the room as a pair as often as could be managed.

Those who had been in the "remedial spellwork" group, mainly younger DA members, had all made frighteningly quick progress and were now dueling at the level that was expected of most incoming auror candidates. After Neville had, albeit accidentally, shot off his first wandless shield spell, there was a murmur between the teachers in the room that if a student as previously hesitant and accident-prone as Neville could master wandless magic in such a short time, after the war they would definitely need to incorporate that level of rigorous training into the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum.

However, it was the "advanced dueling" group that made Hermione's heart swell with pride. Fred and George Weasley seemed to have picked up fairly quickly on the closeness between Harry and Draco. Whether they knew it was of a romantic nature was still undetermined but they were uniquely qualified to recognize a symbiotic relationship when they saw one. They had dubbed Draco "the long-lost, blond Weasley" and took every opportunity to refer to him as 'little brother', ruffle his hair affectionately, or generally take the mickey out of him at any available opportunity. In exchange, Draco began letting them in on some of the spells (of borderline acceptability to the purely light category of spells) he had been taught growing up in the shadow of Lucius Malfoy. During one duel Fred hit Lupin with a spell that made him stun himself with his own wand. The spell Fred used looked mostly like a confundus charm but close enough to a certain unforgivable to raise more than one eyebrow. Fred and George laughed amongst themselves, but moments later, after the attention had gone off them, they both could be seen giving affectionate hair ruffles to a certain smirking slytherin.

Much to Albus' great, twinkling pleasure and Hermione's maternal pride, Harry had grown into his leadership role quite seamlessly. The DA members were used to looking up to him, but, upon the integration of the DA with the Order, Harry had taken in stride his role as a man, a warrior, and a peer of people who had been in the first war. Though he never made Sirius' mistake of calling Harry by his father's name, anyone who had seen the Marauders in action could see the friendship between the two had progressed to that of equals and of friends.

There were only a few bumps in the road as the DA, the Order, the recruited members of the Hogwarts staff, and the few Slytherins that fit quite obviously into none of these categories. Narcissa was the most obvious target for potential issues, she had after all spent over two decades married to Voldemort's lieutenant and the monster was currently living in her house. However, her physical transition back to Narcissa Black along with her willing participation in the veritaserum questioning session seemed to have allayed most people's fears about her loyalty.

What ice wasn't broken by these two features was quickly smashed by the witch's quick wit, biting sarcasm, and almost immediate friendships forged with many key figures on the side of the light. She and Minerva seemed to gravitate towards each other in duels in the same way Poppy and Molly seemed to pair up. Together their lightning-quick reflexes coupled with a vast knowledge of spellwork and a rather alarming lack of anything resembling mercy or pity for their opponents to make them a very formidable team indeed. On breaks, she could often be found with the Weasley twins, either aiding them in tormenting Draco, though in a much more understated and tongue in cheek way, or speaking very softly as the two waited silently on her every word, an act which would have alerted anyone who had ever known the twins that they were up to no good even without the presence of the twins' delightedly mischievous grins as they listened to the Slytherin matriarch. It was actually Hermione and Narcissa who displayed the greatest degree of friendship. It was a Slytherin friendship to be sure, consisting mostly of knowledgeable looks, winks, and subtle gestures across the room, but the casually dropped comment here or there displayed just how much time the two were spending together outside the training sessions and behind closed doors.

Draco had initially been given a bit of a rough hard time by some of the less-forgiving DA members, especially those whom he had previously spent a great deal of time mocking, but it was so overwhelmingly obvious that he not only had the trust of Dumbledore, but the trust, friendship, and protection of Harry and Hermione as well that most were smart enough to bury whatever hatchets needed burying and accept him as an ally. However, after spending more than an hour with the 'real' Draco, as Harry referred to the way Draco acted when outside the gaze of the other Slytherin students, it was pretty obvious to everyone that he was a very different person than the pompous ferret they had known for the last six years.

It was unfortunately Pansy who dealt with the most antagonistic behavior from the other students. She didn't have Narcissa's physical changes or veritaserum to vouch for her change of heart, nor did she have the clear change in personality that belied Draco's shift in loyalties. While she had no love lost for the Dark Lord or the family that sold her off to be a child bride, her personality remained that of the same snarky, quiet, and judgemental girl she had always been. While this snark was no longer directed towards the other members of the DA, it did little to ingratiate them to her presence either. She mainly got by in the same manner she had escaped her family's ire for so many years, by staying in the back of rooms, hiding in crowds, and making herself as invisible as she could without disillusioning herself. This mostly worked for her, but on one occasion backfired quite noticeably with some amusing results.

During the cool down session one day Dean, Seamus, and Ron had been joking around over some stretches. Dean made a less-than-gentlemanly comment about the reasons for which a female would choose to join the Death Eaters, when Seamus responded through a chuckle that someone should ask Parkinson. Before Seamus had been able to finish uttering the punctuation at the end of his offensive comment, he was on his back with Ron Weasley kneeling on his chest, forearm pressed across his windpipe, and wand pressed between his eyes.

"Do. Not. Talk. That. Way. About. My. Pansy." Ron uttered each word with a quiet and deadly calm that was even more terrifying coming from a Weasley much more known for red-faced fits of blustering anger and ranting.

"What the hell, mate?" Seamus choked out, wiggling in a vain attempt to escape. Ron's grip didn't shift or loosen in the slightest as he stared directly into the Irishman's now-watering eyes.

"She has been through more in the last month than you'll experience in your whole life and she has handled it without once stooping to the disgusting level you just reached. If you could see half of the strength and honor and goodness she has you would love her just as much as I do." Ron finished resolutely, not realizing what he had said until the sound of a familiar throat being cleared behind him made him scramble off Seamus' chest and onto his feet.

"Love me?" A very amused looking Pansy Parkinson was inspecting the redhead with a glint of a smile in her eyes.

"Erm, yeah," Ron shuffled his feet and blushed to match his hair as his brain finally caught up with what his mouth had done. "Is that a problem?" He asked timidly.

Pansy broke into the first real smile any of the DA members had ever seen as she shook her head silently, beaming at Ron. After a few shared seconds of ear to ear smiles Pansy seemed to remember her surroundings and leaned her torso to the side to peer around Ron to the still-prone Seamus.

"You okay down there, Finnegan?" she asked in honest concern.

The Irishman shook his head as if to clear it and smiled goodnaturedly, "I'll be alright. I'm sorry for what I said. I obviously didn't know what I was talking about," he glanced at Ron, "Remind me not to mess with your bloke anytime soon, eh?"

The huge smile returned to Pansy's face as she shook her head almost disbelievingly at Ron. Ron still hadn't stopped smiling by the time Dean had finished helping Seamus up. He offered Pansy his arm as they went to leave the room at the end of the night.

She took his arm and gave him another warm smile before resting her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"Me too, by the way."

Ron still hadn't stopped smiling when they arrived at training in Severus' gym the next morning.

* * *

Draco couldn't have been less excited to be back at his childhood home. However, nostalgia tends to take the backseat when one is kneeling on a cold stone floor kissing the robes of a homicidal maniac. He would normally have had a half dozen sarcastic comments about the snake-faced madman above him, but on this occasion Draco was too deep in his occlumency shields to allow even the faintest tinges of humor to distract him from his mission.

After the appropriate length of time, Draco lifted himself from his bow and looked directly into the red eyes that still haunted his nightmares.

"It's almost ready, my Lord. I still have to do some testing to ensure our brothers will have a safe journey, but I should have it ready by the end of the year."

A cold, high-pitched voice bathed over Draco like a bucket of icy water, nothing but his lifelong training in control as the Malfoy heir kept him from shivering.

"Excellent work, Draco. You may just redeem the Malfoy family yet. Lucius, begin preparing with our brothers. It is almost time."


	53. 53: The Preparations

**Chapter 53: The Preparations**

 **So this chapter is, as promised, a bit longer to compensate for last chapter being a bit short. Also, there's a battle coming up soon and the characters have quite a lot to accomplish. This is actually only half the amount of plot I'd planned to cover, but the chapter would have been unreasonably long...**

 **Again, thank you so much for all of your reviews and kind words. They mean so much to me and are really my motivation to keep writing. I want to send out a special thanks to the unnamed guest who sent me what was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me and left me absolutely no way to respond (again, unnamed guest). Thank you anyway!**

* * *

The newly-expanded inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix sat around the round table in Severus and Hermione's common room with papers strewn about the table. Narcissa, Draco, and Severus brought the knowledge about the Dark Lord and the conditions at Malfoy Manor. Albus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were clearly unavoidable characters in the final battle, one way or another. Ginny and Neville were the representatives of the DA, Alasor was the liaison with the Auror department, and Minerva was sitting in as the faculty representative due to the location of the final battle within Hogwarts itself.

It had been determined that, as soon as Draco opened the cabinet for the Death Eaters to come through, they would immediately reseal it to trap the Death Eaters that made the journey within Hogwarts without escape. As soon as this occurred, a second party would raid Malfoy Manor to take on the remaining Death Eaters as well as to hopefully eliminate Voldemort himself.

The battle groups had been drawn up logically, but they had been debating for hours just how they were going to get back into Malfoy manor. Technically, Narcissa should be able to bring them in as the current Lady Malfoy, but anyone who could see the physical changes she had undergone since her defection had more than a little doubt that whatever magic tethered her to the Malfoy family was tenuous at best. Alastor was partial to the idea of kidnapping a Death Eater at an earlier date and following his Dark Mark to the Dark Lord, whereas Albus was a greater fan of the brute force approach, an idea which made both Severus and Narcissa roll their eyes.

Just as the meeting was nearing hour three, there was a soft coughing noise from the corner of the room where a small, corderoy-clad figure was quietly dusting some books. Everyone but Hermione and Severus seemed to ignore it, but the bushy head of curls whipped around so fast that said curls bounced dangerously in every direction.

"Frick!" Hermione shouted triumphantly, scaring everyone but Severus and Alastor, whose nerves were apparently too battle-hardened to be startled by something so trivial. Hermione rushed over to the little elf, who was smiling at her fondly.

"Can you tell if Narcissa is still the matriarch of the Malfoy line?" she asked the elf excitedly. Seemingly uncaring that he was now the center of attention, Frick walked calmly over to Narcissa and tilted his head, as if listening for a noise only he could hear. After a minute or so of silence, he straightened up and stuck his hands into his pockets, again, appearing more like a muggle college professor than a house elf.

"Madame Narcissa is no longer the Malfoy matriarch, but she is still recognized as the lady of the Manor, so you might be able to utilize some," he paused for effect in a way that reminded everyone at the table of Severus, "nonlinear methods of transportation, if you know what I mean."

Upon hearing this, Hermione squaled and subjected Frick to the most undignified of hugs, swinging the little creature around in a circle before depositing him back on his feet and helping him straighten his button-down shirt. He gave her an affectionate pat on the arm before turning his back on the assembled, and now thoroughly confused, group of wizards and resuming his dusting.

"Is anyone going to tell the rest of us what that was all about?" Ron asked with typical Weasley candor.

"Frick is a house elf, so he can sense things wizards can't. He could tell that Narcissa is now magically Narcissa Black instead of Narcissa Malfoy, so she wouldn't be able to grant us access to Malfoy Manor." There was a collective sigh of disappointment from everyone but Severus.

" _However_ ," Hermione stressed the word, "the elves of Malfoy Manor still recognize her as the Lady of the Manor, which means they still follow her orders above all others, including Lucius. Few people remember this anymore, but elves are domestic helpers, so according to ancient protocols they follow the orders of the Lady of the house, not the Lord."

Several people around the table were still directing blank stares in Hermione's general direction.

"That means that Narcissa can summon the Malfoy elves to her at will. She can have them transport her and whomever she chooses directly into the Manor itself."

Hermione looked around triumphantly at the stunned group of faces looking back at her.

"We're in."

* * *

That night, Draco and Harry were sitting together in Severus' private gym. Harry had conjured a sofa for them to sit on as they looked over the quidditch pitch. They often met here at night so they could be alone, as it was still not safe for Draco to have their relationship seem anything but hatred and antagonism to the public eye. However, they both relished their time alone as it was not only a time they could spend together, but a time they both got to take off their not insubstantial masks and simply be themselves.

Tonight the ambiance was a little tense, which was understandable given the revelations of that night's Order meeting, but Harry felt like there was something on top of that that was making Draco seem extra tense. Finally, after a few minutes of awkward silence, he spoke up.

"So are you going to tell me what's up, or do I have to beat it out of you?" Harry asked with his usual amount of Gryffindor tact.

This would usually get at least a begrudging snort out of Draco, but tonight the blond just looked at him with a nervous look on his face. After a second, Harry slowly pulled himself away from the Slytherin, his posture seeming to cave in on itself.

"You're done with us, aren't you? I knew you weren't necessarily...you know, so I don't hold any hard feelings…" Harry began babbling nervously but was quickly cut off by an incredulous hand over his mouth.

"Are you kidding me, Potter? No! You are literally out of your mind if you'd think I'd just throw you over like that. It's…" Now it was Draco's turn to pause uncomfortably, "...it's actually the opposite."

"The opposite? You're nervous because you're not dumping me?" Harry asked, clearly relieved but confused. Draco took a deep breath before looking deep into Harry's green eyes to continue.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. I mean, you were raised by muggles and not in the ridiculously antiquated social circles my parents run in, so you've obviously got a different timeline for these things, but I was just thinking that...oh bugger." He took a moment to collect himself, scowling briefly at the amused look on his messy-haired boyfriend's face.

"I've never seen you flustered before. I must say, I'm kind of honored," Harry said fondly, nudging Draco's shoulder with his own. Draco let out a relieved little sigh and turned on the sofa to face Harry directly.

"You're going to the Manor for the final battle and I've clearly got to be at Hogwarts, for obvious reasons." Draco seemed determined to do this a piece at a time. Harry nodded his assent and Draco continued.

"I can't seem to stop thinking about the fact that I won't be able to protect you," Draco said simply, a crease of worry forming between his eyebrows.

Harry immediately began to respond in argument, but Draco shushed him before he could build up any self-righteous steam, "I know, I know, you're not a bloody damsel, and you don't need saving, and, hell, you can outduel me a solid portion of the time. I know all that. I just…" he paused and looked away for a second, as if searching for the right words, "I love you, and something in me just feels the need to protect you. Can you be okay with that?"

Harry nodded, a lovesick smile already building on his face. "Of course I can. And I feel the same way. Is that what you were nervous to tell me though?"

Draco shook his head and took one more deep breath before continuing, "the Malfoy family has been around almost since wizards first existed. Most of the pureblood propaganda is ridiculous and made up, but having such old magic does have some actual, practical advantages." Slowly, Draco removed a silver signet ring with emeralds encased in the shape of an "M" on it, clearly bearing the Malfoy family crest.

"This ring was crafted in the first century for one of the patriarch's of the Malfoy line. Since then, every head of the house since then has worn it and subsequently imbued it with every manner of protection charm they could think of. It holds all manner of protection magic, light magic, family magic, and blood magic tied to the Malfoy line and, in recent centuries, the Malfoy estate as well."

Harry was eyeing the ring as if it was a precious treasure or a poisonous snake, Draco couldn't tell which.

"So why are you showing this to me now?" Harry asked in a husky whisper.

"Harry Potter, I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how you, Severus, my mother, and the few Order members that are crazy enough to go diving into the snake's den that my childhood home has become plan to come out victorious. However, I do know that whatever happens you feel more like family to me than anyone to whom I share actual blood relations and whatever happens I want the rest of my life to be with you. I would have done this eventually anyway, so don't think I'm just doing this to keep you safe, but will you wear my ring? This ring?"

Harry nodded, awestruck, and in a daze let Draco maneuver the ring past the knuckles on his left hand. He twitched suddenly and became very alert as he felt the powerful magic of the ring wash over him.

"Woah," he said, looking up at Draco, still somewhat awestruck. Draco, for once, didn't point out his lack of eloquence and simply nodded. They both stared at the ring for a few minutes in silence before Harry finally spoke.

"I don't want to sound stupid, but this doesn't make me a Malfoy, does it?" Harry asked shyly.

Draco did actually snort this time, "No, Harry. I'll still be able to sneer 'Potter' at you whenever I please. I guess technically this makes you my betrothed. In pureblood terms it means I have, for lack of a less archaic term, claimed you as mine and you now have all the protections of the Malfoy family. No one who shares my blood will be able to harm you, even if they try, and the protections in that thing should defer or deflect almost everything but the unforgivables and dampen the effects of most dark spells too. I mean, we haven't intentionally tested it, but that's the legend at least."

There was a long pause before Harry spoke again, "I think I like the idea of being claimed by you." He flashed Draco a toothy smile before resting his head on the blond's shoulder. He felt Draco's arm slide around his body and squeeze him tight as he pressed a kiss into the messy hair at the top of his head.

"Good," Draco said quietly as they both resumed looking out over the moonlit quidditch pitch.

* * *

The Order was in the midst of their usual prolonged post-meeting chit chat as the members slowly dispersed themselves. Draco and Harry were standing by the door with Hermione and Severus, quietly confirming the details of their training session the next morning in Severus' private gym when Narcissa seemed to materialize out of nowhere (as she often seemed to do) and put a quiet hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm glad to have you as part of the family, my dear. I'm not sure which family that is exactly, but whatever name we are under, you're a welcome addition," she gestured down at the carefully disillusioned ring on Harry's left hand.

"You can see…?" Harry started, when Narcissa patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Disillusionment spells don't work on family heirlooms, at least not to those inside the family. Other than Draco and I your secret's still safe though," she gave him a conspiratorial little wink.

She spoke quietly enough that only Harry could hear, but Draco, Severus, and Hermione, however, were immediately alerted to the fact that something had happened between the two as Harry's face had immediately turned a shade of red usually reserved for the Weasley family.

"Erm, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy...or, erm, Mrs. Black. I'm not sure what to-"

Harry's stammering was, thankfully, interrupted by an incredulous Draco, "You're okay with this, Mother?"

Narcissa looked mildly pleased at her son's consternation, "Okay with what, dear? You liking boys? I've know that since you were six, honey."

"Mother! Sweet Merlin, no," Draco shot out in embarrassment, "About me and Harry…"

Narcissa looked fully amused now, "Oh, I've known it would be Mister Potter since your first letter home after you were sorted."

Hermione and Severus looked inches from grabbing popcorn while they watched the private little show that was developing amongst the still red-faced Gryffindor, his thoroughly scandalized boyfriend, and the Slytherin matriarch whose eyes were now twinkling with an amusement worthy of Albus Dumbledore himself.

"You did _not_ ," Draco said, dangerously close to sounding like the spoiled pureblood princeling he had acted like for the first few years at Hogwarts.

Narcissa's mouth twitched into a knowing smile, "methinks you did protest a little too much, my dragon. I've had far worse enemies than you two professed to be and never mentioned them half as much. In fact, if your father had been anyone but, well, your father it might have made a fair decent drinking game."

Draco's mouth now hung open in a very undignified gape, Harry was, if possible, even redder, and Hermione looked like she had been given an early Christmas present. Narcissa, with the nonchalance only her impeccable breeding could produce, looked completely uninterested as she picked an invisible piece of lint off Draco's robes.

"I did have the misfortune to try it with some of the elves one summer, but poor Plinka got so tipsy she tried to press my robes while they were still on my body so I had to call it off." She let out a dejected sigh at the memory of her plans being thwarted.

Hermione, at this last comment, let out a small snort of laughter, apparently unable to hold it in any longer. Narcissa looked up, feigning surprise, and addressed Hermione as if they were in the midst of an afternoon tea.

"Poor elf never could hold her liquor," she let out another dramatic sigh of disappointment as Hermione collapsed into Severus' shoulder as silent tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks. After giving the still-gaping Draco a motherly kiss on the forehead, she drifted away to talk to Minerva without another word.

* * *

Hermione and Severus were sitting peacefully in their now-joint sitting room that evening. Severus was mocking up battle plans at his desk and Hermione was curled up in a comfy chair by the fire with her nose deep in a notebook crammed full of her own tiny handwriting. All the sudden a tawny ministry owl soared in, landing on Severus' desk and regally extended his leg to Severus, who relieved him of a large, official-looking scroll without comment. Minutes after the owl had left, a second owl of the exact same coloring came soaring in and landed on Severus' desk with a second scroll just like the first.

This time Hermione raised an eyebrow at Severus, but he simply smirked back and set the second scroll on his desk next to the first. When a third tawny owl came in minutes later bearing a third identical scroll, Hermione quietly shut her notebook and padded over to Severus' desk. When he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence, she casually slid the papers he had been looking over sideways on his desk and popped up on it herself, sitting cross-legged in front of Severus with a pointed look on her face.

"Something you wish to share with the class, Professor?" she said jauntily, fixing Severus with his own trademark eyebrow raise.

"Oh these?" he asked casually. Hermione nodded quite pointedly, eliciting a smile from the Slytherin across from her. "Well, remember that potion you wanted to create? The one that heals nerve damage from the Cruciatus curse?"

"Yes. And you're welcome, by the way. How does that pertain to…?" She gestured to the scrolls.

He took the first scroll that had arrived and silently broke the seal, handing it over to her without a word. Hermione looked over it with a look somewhere between suspicion and confusion on her face.

"This is a potions mastery," she said flatly.

"Well spotted, my dear," he responded with characteristic dry wit.

"This is a potions mastery with my name on it."

"Nothing gets by you tonight," he responded, now with more than a hint of a smile on his face.

"Severus," she drew his name out with a tone that all the sudden made his smile falter, " _why_ is this a potions mastery with my name on it?"

"Well, as your master, I deemed that you had covered the necessary coursework to move on to the independent project phase of the mastery, at which point I submitted the necessary paperwork to the ministry and they owled me that gaudy scroll."

"Severus," her tone was now full of warning.

"It was completely within my purview as your master to submit the paperwork for your mastery whenever I deemed you were ready!" He responded waving his hands defensively in front of his chest.

"Severus!"

"Fine, while it was perfectly within my purview as your master," he paused and took a breath for effect, surveying the irritated lion perched on his desk, "it _might_ have better suited for my position as your mate to _possibly_ give you a bit of advanced warning."

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, acknowledging his progress with the same derision he usually directed towards a first year who finally managed to chop a doxy wing...on the fifth try.

"Do I dare ask what is in the other two scrolls? I'm praying for your sake that you have two other potions apprentices you've neglected to mention?"

Severus seemed to be reconsidering some life decisions, but carried on anyway.

"Remember how impressed Minerva was when you doubled the potency of that potion when you combined it with cellular-level transfiguration of the injured nerves?" Severus asked warily handing over the second scroll.

Hermione looked it over with an inscrutable look, "so I'm guessing that time Minerva asked me to test out a new format for the transfiguration NEWT exam that was wildly inappropriate for someone with only seven years of transfiguration experience wasn't an accident?"

Severus shook his head, unsuccessfully fighting a proud smirk.

"...and I'm guessing that ridiculously broad research packet Madame Pomfrey had me do that was 'all things I should know off hand so no need to waste the time walking to the library' was also another of your clever little ruses then?"

Severus carefully handed over the third scroll with the same mannerisms a nervous child would use to feed a carnivorous zoo animal.

"And what, pray tell, was the massive independent study project that earned my my Healer's Mastery?" Hermione asked, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose again.

"If you can't see the healing value of a potion that completely reverses the damage done by the cruciatus curse, then I really can't help you-"

Whatever he had planned for the last half of his sentence was lost forever as the witch in front of him threw the newly-received scrolls aside and dove off his desk and into his lap, smashing her lips to his in a feverish kiss. Severus allowed himself to enjoy the kiss for a minute or two before he pulled back just enough to mumble a query against her lips.

"So I'm confused. Are or are you not cross with me?" He went back to kissing her, making it a bit harder for her to mumble her answer back against his own lips.

"No, I'm still quite cross with you, but I also just learned that I have not one, but three masteries, so you'll have to just take one for the team and let me celebrate." She returned to their kiss with renewed fervor.

"I'm not complaining," Severus muttered back, barely intelligible due to his unwillingness to break their kiss to speak. They continued on for a few minutes until Hermione pulled back fully, clearly in the grips of a realization.

"Wait, so if I have three masteries, when this is all over...does that mean I…?" she looked into his eyes, flooring him with the knowledge that a woman so clever and now so well-credentialed still sought his advice on her future plans.

"You, my love," he said, dropping a chaste kiss onto her freckled nose, "will be the most sought-after recruit ever to come out of Hogwarts. You can take the rest of your NEWTs if you feel the inane need to attempt to break my record, but even without them you will be a highly coveted resource. You'll have your pick of any career you wish, within reason."

Hermione smiled up at him with a longing that made his heart ache, "and you?"

Severus ducked his head close and nuzzled the brilliant witch in his lap. "I will be by your side, if you let me."

Apparently this had been the right answer, as Hermione broke into a brilliant smile before resuming their previous heated kiss.


	54. 54: The Night Before

**Chapter 54: The Night Before**

 ***sneaks in shamefully, hiding behind a new chapter to avoid thrown fruits and vegetables***

 **I am alive! I promise. I got absolutely walloped by real life lately, and it really took a hit out of my Severus time. I am so sorry for the heinous delay and will do my utmost to finish this story up at a reasonable pace from here on out. To any and all of you who have sent me happy reminders and requests for more chapters, especially my favorite reminder DutchGirl01, thank you so much for keeping me on track!**

 **On a quick personal note, before we get to the good stuff, I do want to show you guys the reason I've been so conspicously absent. I finally followed through on a long-time goal/dream and started a business! It's an online tools site for moms and I literally coded it from scratch, wrote all the articles, and designed/coded all the tools all by myself. If any of you want to go on and see what my mild-mannered, non-Harry-Potter alterego has been up to, I would love any and all feedback! It's "the stay sane mom dot com" (obviously with a real dot and no spaces) and it's totally free to go on, read the articles, and/or use the web tools. This isn't a salespitch (because there's literally nothing to buy)...you guys are just my online tribe, so I couldn't resist showing off the pretty thing I made.**

 **And now, at long last, on with the show...this chapter is almost twice as long as a usual one, in pennance for my long absence.**

* * *

"What do you MEAN I can't go?" Hermione all but shrieked across the table.

Harry dramatically covered his ears, Ron slunk down in his chair, Severus not-so-subtly rolled his eyes, and Draco, the recipient of Hermione's current decibel level, wore a nervous yet defiant grimace.

"I _mean_ ," he emphasized the word, "that Pipsy has been assessing the wards around the Manor and it would appear that father, in his infinite inconvenience, has resurrected some archaic blood ward that would incinerate anyone less than half-blood the second they set a toe in the gates. You can't go unless you really want to turn into chicken-fried Hermione, and I think Severus would stupefy you and spell-o-tape you to his desk over there before he let that happen. Now if you could please bring your octave out of the rafters, some of us have eardrums to protect."

The petulant glaring match that ensued did nothing but scare Ron further down his chair. Pansy took one look at him and broke the tense silence with a snort and a far more obvious eye roll.

"Come on, Hermione. I know you're basically superwitch by now, but I think between Draco, Harry, Severus, Narcissa, and Dumbledore...one horcrux-free Dark Lord isn't actually going to be too much of an issue. Not with the cavalry coming here. Where you'd be much more helpful is in helping protect an entire school full of clueless children from what Draco has heard might be hundreds of hell-bent Death Eaters," Pansy said matter-of-factly. The fact that she was playing up to Hermione's Gryffindorish desire to protect Hogwarts was not lost on Draco or Severus, the table's only Slytherins, or on Hermione herself, who directed Pansy with a death glare that made Ron all but disappear under the table. Pansy simply inspected one of her perfectly-manicured nails as if bored in a history of magic lecture.

"Erm, Draco?" Ron asked, emerging slightly from under the table, with only mild awkwardness at addressing his former enemy by his first name, "is that actually true? Will there be _hundreds_ of Death Eaters at Hogwarts? Just how big is this bloody cabinet?"

Draco couldn't completely stifle his smirk at Ron's blunt descriptions, "to the best of my knowledge, which I would wager is pretty accurate given the number of times he's summoned me from my dormitories in the dead of night for a planning session with his other 'inner circle' Death Eaters, he has taken Severus' defection pretty hard. And although my esteemed Godfather is truly irreplaceable in my book, I personally think his current running total at 0.0078125 of a soul, don't hurt yourself Weasley, the math is right, is hurting his sanity far more than any other factor. He's worked up this battle in his head to be his final conquering of the Wizarding world, children first. He plans to send as many Death Eaters as possible to take the school, then walk in like royalty as we cower at his feet. He's sending _everyone_."

The table was momentarily suspended in a horror-struck silence. Hermione's eyes were subtly glued on Severus, Pansy and Ron were not-so-subtly holding hands under the table, and even as he spoke Draco could feel a pair of bright green eyes staring directly at him. It was Dumbledore's voice that finally cut through the silence.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. You will not be alone in forfeiting the opportunity to see Tom's ultimate defeat in favor of the protection of this school and its students."

"Albus!" Minerva's scandalized tone was usually reserved for first years who tried to perform seventh year transfiguration spells by practicing on their friends.

"I am headmaster, Minerva," Albus responded, as if that was clearly the end of any debate on the topic. "It is my duty and my privilege to protect this school. However, I do think the Hogwarts staff should have more than just Severus as a representative at the Manor, don't you?"

His eyes were twinkling like mad as Minerva realized just what he was insinuating. In a gesture Severus had seen on more Gryffindor students than he could shake a stirring rod at, she took a deep breath, drew back her shoulders, and nodded resolutely at Albus, like a noblewoman accepting an honor bestowed upon her by crowned royalty.

This time the silence was broken by a loud snort from the seat next to Minerva, in which Narcissa was making no efforts to hide her amusement. Minerva fixed the former Malfoy matriarch with her most lethal of glares (sending Ron back into his sub-table slouch of fear), but it only served to elicit an outright giggle.

"Come on, Minerva! You Gryffindors are so damn serious about everything," she said, letting out another snort of laughter, which in turn made Draco's eyebrows raise dangerously close to his hairline with wonder at what had happened to his solemn, withdrawn mother.

"As if you're one to talk, Cissa," Minerva shot back as she took a sip of the tea in front of her, "you've spent the last two and a half decades imitating a statue at a mortuary. I've seen gargoyles with more facial expressions."

"It was the Malfoy talking, dear," Narcissa quipped nonchalantly, "they have about as much sense of humor as Severus does fashion sense."

Both Severus and Draco bristled obviously, but it was now Minerva's turn to snort. She covered it with a cough, but the cover-up was ruined as she tapped her nose knowingly at Narcissa, taking another drink of tea.

"So, what do you say, Minnie?" Narcissa asked playfully, elbowing the other witch in the ribs, "care to sneak into my former house and murder a snake-faced madman with us?" She tilted her head sharply, suddenly bearing a great deal of commonality with a large bird of prey.

"It would be my honor," Minerva said formally, clinking tea glasses with the predatorily grinning witch at her side as the room looked on in a wordless amusement at the unusual joviality the two, usually-stern witches seemed to bring out of each other.

* * *

"No. No. Absolutely not." It was unclear which Weasley twin, if not both, had given up the ghost first on their heated pairs duel between themselves and the unlikely auror duo of Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"It's not possible for a normal, untrained-" one twin began.

"-pair of wizards to put up with this nonsense" the other continued.

"Sure Harry has to deal with this level of attack because he's the bloody chosen one-"

"-but the rest of us? No sirs!"

"You don't see Hermione putting up with this type of abuse."

"Yes, I'd like to see you pick on someone else for a change…"

Even in the middle of tirade the Weasley twins were able to tell that the room had gone eerily silent. In the time since Hermione had manifested some accidental(ish) magic against Mrs. Weasley, there had been a bit of a rumor mill going on about her actual abilities. Those who had ever shared a classroom with her were used to assuming she knew all the book learning there was to know, but after seeing the reverence with which Professor Snape, McGonagall, Poppy, Mad Eye, and even Dumbledore himself treated her, the whispers had begun to inquire about her actual abilities. It also hadn't escaped everyone's notice that she always happened to be required at the strategy and planning table, rather than in the dueling practice sessions with the other DA members.

In this heavy silence, all eyes went to Hermione, who had been bent over a heavy tome next to Albus at the book-laden strategy table. Seeing the atmosphere of the room focus in on her, you could see her eyes quickly dart over to Severus before she gave a slight nod and rolled her eyes.

"Messers Weasley, you wish to see why Hermione is not a regular participant in your little reindeer games?" Severus' usually cold voice seemed darkly amused, which only served to make those like Neville who already had a proclivity towards fearing the dark professor shrink even further away from his commanding presence.

Both Weasley twins nodded with almost humorous vigor as they watched Hermione rise from her seat and stretch her back as she walked slowly towards Severus.

Severus spoke without taking his eyes off of Hermione, "Kingsley, Alastor, maybe Auror Tonks, and Remus, would you like to do a bit of Hermione hunting?"

The Weasley twins looked like Christmas and their birthday had all come at once. Moody snorted in derisive agreement, Kingsley was smiling like he got a joke no one else had understood, Tonks was grinning like the Cheshire cat, and Remus was looking a tiny bit apprehensive.

"Hermione, are you ready?" Severus said, his voice more playful than anyone in the room, professor or student, had ever heard it. Hermione smirked, using her wand to nonverbally spell her hair into a tight braid down the back of her head while simultaneously using her nondominant hand to transform her school uniform into a pair of tight black pants and a matching tee shirt.

"Ready," she said, nodding resolutely then launching herself immediately into a forward roll-turned-dive that spanned half the training space. Her sudden movement briefly shocked the watching Order and DA members until they heard the nasty sizzle of the slicing hex Severus had sent at her collide with the sickly green bolt of whatever spell had come from Moody's wand.

"She didn't even know they would-"

"They didn't even warn her before they-"

But the words of the enraptured Weasley twins were drowned out as the duel in front of them began to unfold. All the bystanders quickly backed themselves out of the training space as the curses began flying.

While in the air, Hermione had used her wand to cast a stinging hex at Lupin while shielding herself with a powerful wandless shield shot from her free hand right before she used it to break her fall. She managed to roll out of her dive and end on her feet just in time to jump over the hexes Severus was firing off in rapid order, trailing the pattern of her descent only by millimeters.

As she landed from her jump she bounced back into the air, this time catching the pink-haired auror to the ground with a spinning roundhouse kick, while summoning a burst of magical flames from both her palms that made all four of the men currently tracking her movements stop and shield themselves.

With her opponents briefly immobilized in defense of her fire, she fired off two quick stunning spells, one hitting Lupin in the shin, causing him to tumble awkwardly to the magically-padded floor, the other missing Tonks' pink hair only by inches. While she was on the offensive Severus had managed to slide around behind her, so as she fired off a modified incarcerous charm that sent ropes banding across the room only to miss Kingsley by a hair, Severus had grabbed her around the waist.

The second she felt his arms tighten around her, Hermione dropped as if to fall to her knees, but in doing so threw her former professor head first over her shoulder. She then twisted as she rose, firing off another stunning spell that this time flew straight, occasioning a grunt from Kingsley as he went down.

Dodging a series of what looked like a combination between a disembowling hex and a stinging jinx from Moody, who was hobbling his way towards Hermione with a manic look that his magic eye hadn't seen since it had lain in the socket of the imposter Barty Crouch Jr., Hermione turned sideways and used her left arm to block a right hook from Severus that would surely have sent her flying.

In between punches she sent a tripping jinx that sent Tonks flying into Moody's bad leg, following it up with a wandless incarcerous that entangled both aurors in its tight-binding ropes.

She then turned and cast Severus a feral grin, stalking towards him in the manner of a jungle cat advancing on its prey.

"Are you ready to really fight now, Miss Granger?" Severus' tone was clearly amused and thoroughly pleased with how his protogee had been performing in the duel.

"I'm not sure you can handle the heat, Professor," Hermione replied as both simultaneously aimed wandless spells at the other. Hermione's spell was pure fire, with a white-hot projectile of flames launching out of her palm and towards the black-clad Slytherin. However, Severus' spell met Hermione's in mid air with a blast of razor-sharp icicles that penetrated the floor and ceiling by several inches where they were not absorbed by Hermione's flames.

The ice only ceased when Severus used his hands to whip his body into a horizontal spin, his dragonhide boot crossing through the plane of air occupied only nanoseconds before by Hermione's head. With a scream that seemed a perfect mixture of enjoyment and bloodlust, she ducked Severus' boot and launched herself at his torso. He turned his body sideways just in time to miss her attack and shoot a cutting spell at her that sliced through the cotton side of her tee shirt, exposing a sliver of the pale flesh on her left side and drawing a thin line of blood.

Hermione seemed unphased as she took the opportunity to fire a series of sickly brown spells at Severus, forcing him to flee across the room to the chorus of her amused taunts.

The rest of the room was spellbound watching the duel between potions master and apprentice. The shocked members of the DA would later debate whether the level of fatal intensity of the spells used or the nonchalant banter was more unnerving.

Finally, after what was probably only five minutes but felt like hours to the watching order members, the duel came to a close as Severus ducked under the steam of jagged metal projectiles emenating from Hermione's wand and grabbed her non-wand hand, spinning her around so that her back was pressed against his front, his want to her head.

"Are you quite finished showing off, Miss Granger?" he asked with a predatory grin.

"I almost had you that time, Professor" she responded with a grin of pure, unadulterated, exhausted fulfillment.

He suddenly released her and they turned to face each other to bow, both breathing heavily.

The room was filled with a deafening silence for a few heavy seconds before exploding into excited chatter and scattered applause. Hermione grinned sheepishly at Severus before waving her hand down her body and transferring herself back into her Hogwarts uniform before crossing the room to rennervate Lupin and Kingsley. She smiled warmly at Moody's grumbles after being freed from the ropes tying him to a giggling Tonks, before heading back to the strategy table and re-burying herself in the large tome she had previously been reading.

* * *

As the hubbub of Hermione's duel was still winding down amongst the collective members of the Order and the DA, Dumbledore gestured to Harry from across the training room and pulled him into the hallway.

"Harry, as you know, I have been planning Tom's downfall for a great number of years," Harry nodded inquisitively, worried as to where his former idol and mentor could be going with this. "While I was aware of his Horcruxes, I had considered other methods of destroying him, should the first fail. Tell me, have you ever heard of the tale of the three brothers?"

Harry shook his head.

"Ah, the disadvantages of growing up with your aunt and uncle, I'm afraid. It is a children's story known by almost all wizarding children. I'm sure if you can manage to disentangle him from Miss Parkinson you can get your friend to explain it to you. I only bring it up because this story explains the existence of a rare magical artifact. A wand that is thought to be unbeatable in a duel and ultimately powerful in the hands of the right wizard."

Dumbledore pulled out the knotted wand Harry had seen him use so many times and held it out to Harry the way one would a ceremonial sword. Harry stared at it wide-eyed for a few seconds before beginning to back away slowly, muttering a chorus of no's under his breath. Dumbledore simply smiled, seeming more the grandfatherly figure his age would suggest than the feared wizard of his reputation.

"I am not proud of the lengths I had to go to in order to procure this wand, Harry. It came to me at great personal cost. I now give it to you the way a father would pass on a treasured heirloom to his son, with great hopes both for it and for you."

Harry was powerless against the twinkle. He slowly reached out and touched the proffered wand with an awed look on his face.

* * *

The night before the scheduled confrontation, the tension could be felt by order members throughout the castle. After their last training session, they had shared half-hearted back pats and just-a-little-too-serious goodbyes as the various members dispersed to their quarters for the night. Ron and Pansy had been exactly zero percent subtle as they headed off together in the direction of Pansy and Gabi's rooms. Harry and Draco had been a little less conspicuous as they briefly pressed their foreheads together and exchanged whispers before they each walked off towards their separate dormitories for what Hermione guessed would be very brief, cursory appearances before sneaking off for another night's sleep on a conjured sofa in Severus' private gym.

Severus and Hermione found themselves in a distracted imitation of their normal nightly routine, each freshly showered and reading a book of choice while jointly cuddled in front of the fire. However, from the lack of turned pages and the abundance of deep sighs, it was clear neither was paying a mote of attention to the books in front of them.

"Oh will one of you two finally pull your overly greasy or overly bushy heads out of your clearly-too-tight arses and get on with it already?"

Severus and Hermione both jumped, neither of them used to such caustic words being directed at them while inside what they had come to view as their mutual safe space. Both heads whipped around to see a grizzled Slytherin glare directed expectantly at them from the infrequently-used portrait on the wall by the door.

"Former headmaster or not, don't think I will hesitate for a second before taking a match to your oily canvas, Phineas. Do you want to explain yourself, or shall I get the kerosene now?" Severus' voice lacked something of the intensity it usually had when he hurled insults, a true testament to how much stress the pair was currently under.

"Miscere animas," the smug painting said factually, eliciting a sharp inhale from Hermione and a pinched glare from Severus. "You'd both been researching it individually for months now. If you weren't both so damned insecure or so bloody secretive you might have let each other know about it, but it appears you'd rather run out the clock with your prides intact, consequences be damned, and I'd rather you both come back from tomorrow night alive, if it's all the same to you. I don't allow people into my confidence often and both of you have wormed your ways in whether I like it or not. It would be such a waste of time for you to die now."

Phineas seemed pleased with his tirade and promptly went back to reading a small, painted book as if he hadn't just thrown the occupants of the room into a state of shock and trepidation.

"The soul merging spell? Is this true, Hermione?" Severus' gaze felt like it could have burned a hole through Hermione with the intensity behind his black, fathomless eyes. For the first time since they'd officially gotten together Hermione felt herself blush and avert her eyes like the schoolgirl identity she had discarded so long ago.

"I hid the books in my apprentice quarters. I didn't want to bind you to yet another master. Not that I'd be that...it's just…" she swept her hand flusteredly through her cascading curls before taking a deep breath and starting again. "I know how long you spent tied to Albus and to the Dark Lord. I didn't want to bind you so soon to another. I wanted you to experience real freedom."

She had kept her eyes down as she spoke, but when Severus didn't immediately respond she glanced up to see a mixture of pain, longing, and love burning across his face as he stared over at her. When he finally spoke, it was slowly and measured, as if he didn't trust his own voice.

"You would bind your soul with mine? Knowing everything I've done, everything I've been forced to do, all the darkness I've-"

His sentence was cut off as she silenced his lips by crashing into them with her own. She was soon pulled out of her customary arm chair and into his lap, their lips never parting as she settled on leg on either side of him. For seconds they allowed themselves to be swept away in each other, her hands twining into the inky black hair at the nape of his neck, his pressing into her lower back as if to pull her into himself permanently. After what could have been thirty seconds or an hour, she pulled back a fraction of an inch to look directly into her former professor's eyes.

"Severus, yours is the purest and most wonderful soul I have ever seen. I wish nothing more than for my soul to be permanently and irrevocably joined with yours. Merlin knows our legilimency has long since blurred the line between our two minds. I only didn't mention it because I didn't want you to be shackled to another before you even got to enjoy your freedom."

Severus' gaze could have burned her alive with its intensity.

"Freedom without you would be far inferior to the time I spent in service to the Dark Lord," the gravity of his words rang out in a heated silence that hung heavy between the only two, save Poppy Pomfrey, who knew exactly what serving the Dark Lord had really cost Severus.

Hermione finally broke the silence, using her former know it all persona as a shield from the heavy emotions, "You've read about the side effects, then?"

Severus raised his signature eyebrow before speaking, eliciting a beaming grin from the Gryffindor still in his lap, "yes, I believe I have an acceptable understanding of the spell. While a typical marriage spell binds only the romantic intentions of the participants, a soul bond binds the entire soul. However, a soul bond is a naturally-occurring and exceedingly rare condition. The miscere animas spell is wizard-made rather than naturally-occurring, and as such it cannot target the soul specifically, instead binding and joining the two wizards in question mind, spirit, and soul. We would not only be man and wife, we would be one being in every regard other than inhabiting two physical bodies. Is that up to your standards, Professor Granger?" He finished with a boyish smirk.

"Professor Snape," Hermione replied with a small smirk of her own.

"Yes?" the dark-eyed wizard asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"If we're really to do this, my name would be Professor Snape," she finished with a grin.

For a second she feared the intensity in his gaze would devour her whole. He inhaled sharply as his pupils dilated with intent. It was then closer to three seconds than four before his lips came crashing down to claim hers. While their prior kiss had been a relieved celebration that their feelings had been mutual, this was the embrace of a man possessed, one who was holding everything that mattered to him in his hands and was determined never to let her slip out of his hands. They only managed to break apart, both still panting heavily, when a knock sounded on the door to the outside rooms.

Before words could be spoken, Poppy Pomfrey made her way into Severus' chambers, followed by the smug return of Phineas to his frame. Upon seeing Hermione still sitting in Severus' lap, her eyes still locked with those of her imminent husband to be, Poppy shook her head, tutting with feigned exasperation.

"Leave some passion to consummate the bond, my dears. With all the electricity between you two right now I fear the room might combust."

When the two still made no move to disentangle themselves Poppy laughed and cleared her throat loudly in their direction, "Come on you two. Phineas lured me out of bed with promises that I'd not only get to witness the two of you bond but that I'd get to perform a rare and complicated bit of magic only seen once or twice in a century. Care to fill me in?"

With a deep breath and a look that promised they would continue what had been started the second Poppy left the room, Hermione begrudgingly removed herself from Severus' lap and positioned herself demurely on the chair opposite him. She couldn't help but restrain herself from giggling at the way Poppy's eyes bugged out as Severus told her exactly what bit of magic she'd be performing that night.


End file.
